Hermione Granger and the Compulsive Liar
by wordsarepoison
Summary: Hermione Granger, Magical Law Enforcement officer, on a quest for a wizard who can deliver fireworks in bed. Severus Snape, former spy, in pursuit of some well-deserved peace and quiet. Their worlds collide once more when Snape approaches Hermione with a case of potentially catastrophic proportions. Can they solve the case and fix their lives at the same time? Light-hearted HG/SS.
1. Chapter 1

Hey folks – here's a story that was spawned by several plotbunnies that mated and made themselves into a whole colony of little plotbunnies that would not leave me alone! I am a long term reader and (occasional) writer of fanfiction/fictionpress, but I have forgotten my old account details and honestly can't be bothered digging it out again, so here's me with a new account and new story.

 **Disclaimer** : No I do not own Harry Potter.

 **Rating/warnings** : Please note the rating. This story is rated **M** for language and sexual content. There are also mentions of violence.

Enjoy if you will

 **Chapter One: A Lousy Existence**

"Ah… Ahhhh…!"

Goodness the man was _noisy._

"Gods, you feel so perfect… so good… so –"

Hermione blew a strand of curly hair out of her face and tried not to sigh as the man above her thrust ever more erratically into her body. Her bed rocked as he attempted to drill her into her mattress in a manner not unlike the way her mother used to dig for slugs in the back garden. Surely she ought not to feel so… bored? So unstimulated? So impatient for this to be over? Or thinking about her mother, even?

Whatever had possessed her to invite Ernie back to her apartment? Right – drink and the promise of a good shag. That was it. Well, this was certainly shagging but there wasn't anything _good_ about it. Now the sheets were digging into her back and this was not pleasant. The gradually increasing itchy feeling made her want to lean up and scratch her back. But this was probably not considered good sex etiquette. _Sex-tiquette?_

She was daydreaming during sex, _again. When did this start?_ With Ron, probably. He was her first real lover after all. There was some adolescent fumbling with Viktor during fourth year, and more fumbling with that Hufflepuff in sixth year… but it was Ron with whom Hermione first went _all the way,_ so to speak. It was most certainly a disappointment, that first lovemaking session, and the next, and the next... But Hermione had persevered because she _adored_ Ron. Ronald Weasley, cheeky menace and loving friend, wrapped in one delightful red-headed package. After all, if she couldn't have good sex with Ron, at least they had great companionship. Until they both realised that their great companionship was fine as best mates, but didn't quite work for romantic partners. Ron wanted a girl who was happy to listen to him talk about Quidditch all day, then massage his feet while a pot roast was being prepared using well-honed skills at cooking magic. Hermione did _not_ fit those requirements. And indeed, what she wanted in a partner was more intellectual discussion, maybe reading about Charms together, or the latest issue of _Transfiguration Weekly_ , and _then_ preparing the pot roast together while listening to Wizarding radio. In the end, Ron and Hermione had parted amicably, still loving each other but acknowledging that the end of their romance had well and truly come.

"Her- Hermione…! I'm… I –"

 _Oh dear, had she been daydreaming for that long?_ Or perhaps Ernie was one of those two-minute wonders. Either way, she was glad it was over.

 _Sigh._

He trembled above her and Hermione felt warmth pool in her nether regions. Unfortunately it was not warmth of a pleasurable kind. What a downer. And what in Merlin's name was wrong with her? When Ernie had undressed she noted the size and shape of his penis with glee – Lavender and Pavarti had both counselled her on the importance of a good sized "love wand", as they liked to call it. And if the size was not up to standard, then shape was also important. Thick and stout felt pretty good, they had both said, giggling and fanning themselves over afternoon tea last weekend.

Yes, Hermione was desperate enough in her love life to be asking her former roommates from Hogwarts what to look for in a good lover. She barely spoke to the two miscreants after leaving Hogwarts, but had fond memories of the two of them studying the sex columns of _Witch's Weekly_ with a gusto that would have made their professors proud.

"Gods, Hermione – that was fantastic! I don't think I've ever come that hard before. You're _amazing._ "

"Thanks." She wondered if that was a bit brusque. His chest hairs were scratching her nipples, and it felt uncomfortable. Scrunching up her face, she added "You're amazing, too."

She felt Ernie slip out of her and almost sighed in relief. _Well, at least that's over_. Hermione wondered again if there was something wrong with her. Some nerve endings deficient or so. She was the know-it-all bookworm after all. She had read up on _these things_ and was certain she ought to feel something. And of course, she had the benefit of her own fingers to bring her pleasure, although certainly nothing up to the level worthy of screaming.

She wondered again if she ought to navigate the shagging more. Take control, as they say. Perhaps a little bit of _hey- mind if I cut in whilst you ram into my body like Molly Weasley skewers ham before roasting, but if you could please just rub my nipples like this whilst also tweaking my clitoris like that, that would be lovely…_

She actually wondered if any of her previous lovers even knew what a clitoris was. They certainly had not tried to make an acquaintance with hers. Lousy gits.

She sighed aloud as she continued to ponder. Ernie's whispers of _what a good lover you are, Hermione, and how sexy…_ had faded into quiet snores. For some reason, she could not bring herself to tell her lovers what she wanted. Certainly she had a fair few… Ron was her first, then Adam and Alistair from the Ministry's new Magical Tracking department (not at the same time, mind you), Chen from accounting, Rufus from the bar, John from the _other_ bar, Anton from one of Harry's get-togethers… She had even somehow fallen into bed with Blaise Zabini, and was disappointed to find that being a Slytherin stud had _not_ made him into a satisfying lover. Where on earth did she get that impression anyhow? Blaise had always been popular at school with the witches… surely part of this was his sex appeal? Why didn't she enjoy it then?

There was no hope about it then. She was destined to be one of those women who did not enjoy sex. Hermione had read several forums (on the Muggle computer at her parents' house) where women bemoaned that their partners could not give them sexual pleasure. She had thought at the time that it must be a lousy existence. Now she felt certain that she was living in one.

 _Perfect._ She sighed and rolled onto her stomach, closing her eyes. At least she had work to look forward to tomorrow.

 _And that's what a sad life you have, you poor witch. Looking forward to work, of all things. Can't even enjoy a man next to you…_

Hermione shook her fist at her subconscious voice and felt into a troubled asleep, unsated and annoyed, and more than a little disappointed.

* * *

The next day she shooed Ernie out of her apartment and got dressed in surly silence. Her work robes were a flattering shade of dark purple and underneath she was a simple loose black dress. Her nipples still ached slightly so she forwent the bra. It was all hidden beneath her robes anyhow, nobody would notice. Last night, Ernie had pulled and twisted her nipples like they were buttons on a radio. Not that he knew what a radio was, being raised entirely in the wizarding world. In any case, his rough handling had hurt rather than titillated. _Prat._

Hermione considered her reflection quietly as she attempted to control her hair. Ginny Weasley – _Potter now, of course_ – had told her that her hair was a lovely feature, not something to be slicked down with alarming amounts of Sleakeasy, but an element to be gently tamed. Hermione was sure that Ginny could not understand, with her lovely long ribbons of straight red hair, what it was like to grow up with her wild hair. Taming this beast required more Charms knowledge than even Hermione bloody Granger had. Blowing out a breath, as she did every morning, Hermione shrugged and charmed it into a loose ponytail. _No use trying to do anything fancy – it isn't as though I'm going to even attempt to bring someone home tonight._ She checked her security wards once again, making sure they were back up after Ernie's departure, then picked up her bag to Floo to the Ministry.

Once she got there, she noticed a strange thing. It was quiet. Sure, it was early in the morning, but there were already a few members of the Magical Law Enforcement team there. Usually there was the sound of fresh coffee being made and whisked magically towards the desks of officers just starting the day shift, or the repetitive sound of transcripts being processed and filed by charmed quills and cabinets, or even the melodic sound of Auror Finley's voice giving her debriefing in her supervisor's office. Hermione frowned as she walked past Officer Miranda Stein's desk – the blonde was sitting tensely, reading reports from the previous evening, a quill stuck haphazardly behind her ear. That was odd. Miranda usually was at her cheerful best in the morning. _What on earth was going on? Was there some bad news?_

"Miranda?" Hermione forced herself to smile despite the sinking feeling in her belly. "Is everything alright today?"

Miranda's blue eyes flicked from the parchment she was reading to Hermione's own amber gaze and she sighed audibly, putting the report down and twitching her fingers anxiously. For some reason this put Hermione in mind of an anxious first-year standing outside Defence Against the Dark Arts for the first time. "Oh everything's fine, Hermione. It's just that seeing _him_ again reminds me of times at school when I was terrified of just hearing his voice."

"Pardon?" Hermione's anxiety turned to befuddlement. "Whatever do you mean?"

Miranda raised her eyebrows in confusion. "Oh – I thought you already knew he was here. After all, he did ask for you personally…"

"Granger!" The loud tones of her supervisor, the Head of the Magical Law Enforcement team, interrupted whatever Miranda was going to reveal. "In my office, now. Please."

The "please" seemed to have been added as an afterthought. Which seemed unusual for Eric Harwood, the grizzled Auror-turned-bureaucrat. He hardly seemed to think that any of his staff were worthy of polite words such as "please", or "thank you", or even "oh yes, you've had a long day. That report can understandably wait until tomorrow."

Hermione raised her eyebrows in return to her colleague. _What on earth…?_ Miranda just shrugged and turned back to her report, but not before giving her a puzzled look.

 _Well, I'm certainly in for an exciting morning._

She scooted towards Harwood's office, slipping her bag onto her desk on the way as she schooled her face into a mask of polite interest. Hermione and her supervisor had a civil relationship - filled with grudging respect on both sides. Harwood knew that Hermione had been part of the Order of the Phoenix, and like everyone else, knew of her role as part of the Golden Trio. After four years working for him, Hermione had proven to be a tenacious and intelligent worker, which was probably the reason why her boss generally had little occasion to rebuke her. _Except for when she skirted the law in the pursuit of some criminals…_ Well, that was the Gryffindor in her. Nothing to be done about impetuous and occasionally idiotic bravery.

As she slipped through the door, Hermione stopped in surprise as she caught sight of a set of long, dark robes. Her breath caught as she suddenly realised who was standing in her supervisor's office.

"Professor Snape!"

* * *

It was he. The terrifying Potions Master of Hogwarts, Head of Slytherin house, spymaster of the Order of the Phoenix, former Death Eater, double agent… wait, was he _half-smiling?_

"Miss Granger." Snape inclined his head slightly and rose to give her a small bow. "I'm afraid I am no longer "Professor" now. It is a pleasure to see you once again."

"Oh, of course." Hermione couldn't stop the grin from blooming across her face at the sight of him, and the sound of his deep baritone voice. The last time she had seen him he was walking out the door of St Mungo's, with a ragged scar on his neck and a raspy, husky voice nothing like the usual timbre. "My apologies. A part of me will always think of you as Professor Snape." She paused and took a longer, more appraising, look at him. "You are looking very well."

And he did. He was lean and tall, as he had been, but without the gauntness, unhealthy pallor or even the heavy tension that he had always seemed to carry in those dark years. He had cropped his hair shorter, still long by Muggle standards but no longer the lank greasy curtain that as a spy he had used to hide his facial expressions from inquiring eyes. Most surprising to Hermione was the absence of the formerly eternal scowl that used to grace his visage. Now, she thought, there were little lines beside his dark eyes, and she fancied that Severus Snape had re-acquainted himself with laughter and joy once again.

Seeing him again inevitably turned her thoughts to dark times. It was Arthur Weasley who had found Snape bleeding to death on the floor of the Shrieking Shack after the Dark Lord had set Nagini on him. Although his eyes were closed and his skin deathly pale, there was a weak pulse, and Arthur had acted quickly. Arthur had Apparated with him directly to the Burrow, where he forced down Snape's throat a variety of potions – Blood Replenisher, Strengthening solution, Calming draught – and most importantly, the antivenom that he had prepared in the aftermath of Nagini's attack on him at the Ministry just some years prior. Arthur had left a stable, but still unconscious and dangerously near-death Snape at the Burrow to resume the fight at Hogwarts. Needless to say, Snape survived, and was rallied back to health by the Healers at St Mungo's.

Hermione had sat at Snape's bedside for weeks during his long recuperation at the hospital. At the time, Ron and Arthur Weasley had been so grief-stricken at the loss of Fred that they had been unable to leave their home and the comfort of their family for some time. Harry, of course, had been unwearyingly petitioned the courts and the Ministry to pardon Snape for Dumbledore's death _and_ for everything he was forced to perform in his charade as a Death Eater, and had barely had time to dash between appointments. Harry occasionally had come by the wards at St Mungo's to exchange a few quiet words with Hermione and glance worriedly at their former Potions professor, who lay unconscious and unresponsive for many days. Even Minerva McGonagall was conspicuously absent, as she had been given the mammoth task of rebuilding Hogwarts and preparing it for a new term of students as quickly as possible. And so it fell to Hermione to sit by Snape's bedside during those difficult weeks, where it seemed as though Snape floated in the small space between life and death. Not that she minded terribly. Harry had shared the contents of Snape's bitter memories with his best friends, and later the Ministry, and Hermione had felt horrified at the way Snape had had to live all those years. She had felt terribly guilty for how they had always mistrusted him, and how the whole Order had failed to acknowledge his great trials. They all owed him a great debt. So it had seemed like little sacrifice to her to sit by his bedside each day, spooning warm broth into his mouth, gently wiping the sweat from his brow, helping the healers to administer potions. After three whole months of unconsciousness, Hermione had been overjoyed to see his eyes snap open, dark gaze flashing with recognition at the sight of her relieved face. Although they had soon slid shut again, apparently against his will, that small event had signalled the start of a determined battle for recovery.

 _He has decided to live._ The healers had all said to her, as they bustled around Snape, casting diagnostic charms and topping up his medicinal potions vials. _No one fights this hard against Death if they do not wish to live._

"Granger, Mr Snape has a report to make, and he needs the attention of the department to apprehend what may be a very dangerous criminal." Harwood's no-nonsense bark brought Hermione's thoughts crashing back to the present. "Take Mr Snape to the meeting room and discuss the case with him there."

"Yes, sir." Hermione was relieved to find her voice calm and controlled as usual, despite the pleasant shock she had had that morning. Snape had been assessing her with his dark eyes, and the expression on his face was surprisingly pleased. _Perhaps I am not the only happy one at this reunion_ , Hermione thought, surprising herself with the strange thought. "Please, Mr Snape, follow me."

She wondered on what Snape could possibly be reaching out to her department for, as she led him out of Harwood's office. Although Hermione had not seen the wizard in years since he had left St Mungo's, she had surreptitiously kept tabs on him, _just in case_ he needed help _._ She knew that Snape had left Hogwarts two years prior, after serving five years at Headmaster following his recuperation at St Mungo's. Her connections at the Ministry had kept her informed of his whereabouts, so Hermione also knew that he had been living a solitary life in the east of the country for the past two years. Of his activities, though, she was unaware. What in Merlin's name would drive him to seek help from Magical Law Enforcement?

 _Well, at least this explained Harwood's politeness to her this morning._ Hermione smiled to herself as she motioned Snape into the meeting room, shutting the door behind her as she stepped inside. _Even Eric Harwood was a little star-struck at being in the presence of war hero Severus Snape._

She turned back to Snape and looked at him, again. She couldn't seem to tear her eyes away from the shorter hair and smile-lines. He looked years younger. Healthier, fitter… well, almost like a new man, really. How strange to see him without the brooding intensity, the scowl, the feeling that if you _did not get out of his way this instant you were going to be hexed or cursed or…_

"You are looking… well, Miss Granger." Snape cleared his throat in mild embarrassment at her frank appraisal. Hermione supposed that most people reacted to him the same way Miranda had – either with fear, or terror. Or great terror.

"Thank you. I can't say enough how very nice it is to see you in such good health, Mr Snape." Hermione pulled out a quill and a small sheet of parchment from a hidden pocket in her robes. "What can we help you with?"

In turn, Snape pulled a tightly rolled piece of parchment from his robes with the same elegant flourish she recalled from her schooldays. Indeed, Hermione noted that although he may be the _bat of the dungeons_ anymore, he still favoured the flowing black robes that he had worn during his tenure at Hogwarts. She suppressed a smile. "As you may know, I have been living in the east these past years, doing research mainly, but also making potions in my private laboratory for mail-orders."

Snape unfolded the parchment, which listed carefully all the orders from the past weeks in his easily recognisable handwriting, cramped and spiky as she remembered. "My advertisement states that I make potions of all varieties, with discretion being the key selling point. No one who buys my potions knows my name, and I promise not to reveal the identities of my clients. The usual clients are those who want something done quickly, with high standard, with no questions asked – generally contraceptive potions, healing potions, strengthening potions – nothing too surprising. Needless to say, I also get a few rather unsavoury orders from time to time, potions that could cause disease, maiming, depression… the usual Dark sort. Of course, _these_ clients are promptly reported to the relevant authorities, your department included –"

"Wait – I thought you said that you never disclose the identities of your clients." Hermione interrupted. As she was reading the Snape's parchment with her usual care, she missed the fleeting expression of amusement on his face.

"I do not reveal the names directly… I just, well, let us just say that I drop a few _hints_ here and there to ensure that these witches or wizards are punished for their attempted crimes."

"Ever the Master spy." Hermione smirked. Her reading of the parchment did not reveal any obviously unsettling orders, and she said so aloud. _What could be the problem?_

"Yes, if you look at the orders at a glance, there is no reason for concern." Snape pushed up the sleeves of his black robes to pull the sheet of orders towards him back towards him. The movement exposed cuffs of a cream-coloured linen shirt and long, elegant hands lined with small burn scars. "However, recently I noticed several orders, all from different names… that if one were to carefully mix together the potions the capacity to cause catastrophic harm."

Hermione's heartbeat quickened at his words and she leaned forward, resisting the urge to snatch the parchment out of Snape's hands - _lovely hands, though_ – and read through the list again. "I don't…"

"You would need more than a Mastery of Potions to know what I speak of, Miss Granger." Snape said. The tone of his voice made her look up at him, he spoke not unkindly, but his voice held something… almost a sigh of remorse. "You would also need an intimate knowledge of the Dark Arts."

She felt her spine tense. Hermione could not tear her eyes away from her former Professor. Somehow she felt that this would be something that not even she was prepared for. _Oh gods, don't let this be happening again…_

"Dreamless Sleep potion, twenty vials…" Snape's fingers touched each order in turn as he read them aloud. "Catatonia's solution, fifty vials. Hospital-grade Calming draught, double strength, twenty vials. Warming potion, double strength, twenty vials. Breathe-easy potion, fifty vials. Thirty vials of industrial-grade Dragon's breath potion…" Here Snape looked up at her again and said softly, "Do you know what would be made if one was to carefully combine these five solutions, Miss Granger?"

She shook her head. Somehow the answer was there, niggling in her mind, but unable to be voiced. The potions were innocent enough by themselves, but somehow, instinctively, Hermione knew that something else was happening. The horrible dread that she had felt since earlier that morning began to gnaw at her stomach.

"A bomb." Snape whispered. "A magical bomb of sufficient strength to put the entirety of Muggle London in a catatonic slumber, _indefinitely._ "

 **Whee!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Note:**

 **Thank you to the lovely reviewer who pointed out that I did a typo on Ginny's name! My bad. I had to fix it on this chapter so sorry if this posts twice! If it does then… my bad, again.**

 **Also, I had an issue with this website and line breaks. I am a silly person. Apologies for any formatting issues that I have not yet noticed!**

 **I will aim for approximately weekly updates, but may occasionally take a little longer because, you know… life.**

I'm back! Hope you enjoyed Chapter 1, and here's hoping you like Chapter 2! Thank you to everyone who stopped by and left comments – it is very much appreciated.

 **Disclaimer** : No I do not own Harry Potter.

 **Rating/warnings** : Please note the rating. This story is rated **M** for language and sexual content. There are also mentions of violence.

 **Chapter 2: Not this, again.**

Hermione's tongue felt as though it was stuck to the top of her mouth. Somehow the only thought that could penetrate her mind was _oh no, not this. Not this, again._

Through her haze of shock, she was somehow incredibly aware that her facial expression belied one of calm and mild interest. It was an ability she had cultivated during her… adventures at school, and later on during her work with the MLE. Hermione knew that as a brazen Gryffindor, her emotions were too often painted clearly on her face. It had seemed to her advantage to learn how to conceal her thoughts from prying eyes.

But perhaps this was not the best strategy when dealing with a retired master spy.

Snape had been watching her closely during the silent moments of Hermione's racing thought processes. After a few moments of silence, he leaned back heavily on the uncomfortable, Ministry-issued chair and exhaled. "You don't believe me."

"I do." _I do?_ Hermione paused to gather her thoughts. This was Severus Snape, not some paranoid wizard returned from Bulgaria with a painting he suspected was a fake, raging at the MLE to _just bloody get things sorted!_ (Yes, this had happened before… twice). She _knew_ Snape – his instincts for danger had been well-developed to the point of paranoia in the two decades he served as Dumbledore's spy. "Prof-, I mean, Mr Snape. There must be more if you came to us. The potions… you know that it could just be a coincidence. They could just have been ordered by a few people somewhere out there who just happened to need Calming Draught and Dragon's Breath. But clearly something convinced you that it is not."

She met his eyes and thought she caught a flicker of amused pleasure there at her quick deduction.

"Tell me what it is."

Snape blinked and looked away from her suddenly. His fingers rested in a steepled pose, and Hermione found herself wondering if she ought to cultivate that habit. Her own hands tended to shake when she felt nervous, and as a child and young adult she had taken to sitting on them to prevent others noticing her anxiety. He seemed to be thinking carefully.

"Payment for my services is provided directly into my vault at Gringotts. To my clients, this suggests to them that I would find it impossible to trace the source of their money given the Goblins' notorious sense of discretion and secrecy. However, when my suspicions were first aroused… I resolved that I had to know _who_ these clients were. The easiest method to do this would be to find out where the money was coming from… which given the… ah – _favours_ owed to me by several of the employees at Gringotts, proved relatively trivial."

"Wait – the _goblins_ owed you _favours?_ "

"Yes, Miss Granger, but that is hardly the point…"

 _Goblins. Owing favours._ The very idea seemed absurd. Hermione's calm exterior threatened to crack with an unprofessional giggle. Not strange to Severus Snape, no doubt.

"At first I imagined that our purported criminal had been careless, thinking that Gringotts would provide the anonymity that they desired. I thought that these incriminating orders could have come from the same person, using different names, paying from the same vault. This would have made it easy to track them down. Unfortunately, this proved incorrect."

Snape paused, and in the ensuing silence Hermione could not help but notice that he seemed slightly… _nervous_. Snape? Nervous? This seemed more absurd that even the concept of goblins and favours.

"Although it now seemed that our potential bomb-maker could in fact be several unsuspicious non-bomb-makers each wanting an exceptional level of calmness, dreamless sleep and very warm fireplaces… I could not displace the feeling that something was terribly wrong."

"I collected on yet another favour and found that these suspicious vaults at Gringotts were in fact all secondary stores that could be linked to an account named to a single person. This person was… _is_ known to me. Their identity came as something of a shock." The nervous expression had faded and now Snape looked… almost sad.

Hermione leaned closer. "Who is it?"

He met her eyes, his dark gaze boring so deep she felt that he could see into her very _soul_.

"Narcissa Malfoy."

* * *

 _Narcissa Malfoy._

The first emotion that Hermione could identity amongst the haze of feelings that arose at the sound of her name was… regret. Sadness. Bitterness. And then shock. Incredulity.

 _Narcissa Malfoy._ Immediately visions of the beautiful woman, the beautiful _sad_ woman, swam into Hermione's vision. Narcissa had abruptly stopped leaving her home after the sudden demise of her husband, Lucius, not yet four years prior. In Hermione's adolescence, Narcissa had always seemed beautiful, albeit haughty and cold. Now that beauty was etched with terrible grief.

She knew Snape was watching her carefully. _What is he thinking?_ "I confess… well, this is quite a surprise to me." Hermione managed to say. "As far as I know, Madam Malfoy has not left Malfoy Manor in several years. I can hardly imagine her planning something of this scale. She has been in mourning since Mr Malfoy's untimely death."

"Yes, indeed, that is what I thought myself." Snape looked curiously at Hermione, probably wondering why she had kept such close tabs on the Malfoys. "I have known Narcissa for many years, and although she is a Slytherin through and through, her methods are far more direct and less… convoluted than the apparent crime in progress we have here. And as you say, she has been in deep mourning since Lucius' passing, and has seemed hardly able to make a pot of tea for herself, let alone plan a scheme of this magnitude."

"Do you think she is being framed?" Hermione blinked, realising that she had used a Muggle phrase in her excitement. "I mean, do you suppose somebody…"

"I am aware of the meaning of the expression, Miss Granger." Snape interrupted. _Of course, he was raised in a Muggle home_. "And to answer your question, yes, I do. To me this is the clearest indication that there something very dangerous is about to happen."

 _Not this, again._

Quite against her own volition, Hermione felt her eyes start to sting with moisture. Sitting here, speaking to _Severus Snape_ about imminent danger… well, she thought she had left that all behind her, eight years ago. Suddenly needing some air, she rose abruptly from her seat, turning her face away from Snape. She didn't notice that he had risen as well, lifting a hand as if to reach out to her.

 _She wasn't a coward. She just needed some air._

"Pr- Mr Snape," Hermione began, clearing the tears away as hastily as they had suddenly come. "May I interest you in some tea?" _Yes, tea. The last bastion of defence in every crisis situation, protecting its drinkers from harm and mental incapacity…_

"Yes… please." Snape lowered his hand just as she turned around to face him. "But, Miss Granger - perhaps you have had enough shocks for one morning. I can return later to discuss…"

"Not at all, sir – I mean, Mr Snape. I mean, not that I have had enough shocks. Er- I mean…" Hermione felt uncharacteristically flustered. Something about seeing Snape, swathed in his billowing black robes and combined with his confident intensity, made her feel strangely unsure of herself. Even though he now said "Miss Granger" in a tone startlingly dissimilar to how she remembered it from her school days… back then his voice was laced with a scowl, a threat to take away _five points from Gryffindor_ , and generously topped with deep dislike for her and her friends. Now, there seemed to be a layer of affection there that she had never heard before. _Where had that thought come from?_

"The very idea that a terrorist is threatening our world _again_ … and at the same time trying to cast suspicions onto old Death Eater connections… well. I think I need a good strong Darjeeling before I can even begin to comprehend how we should proceed with the investigations."

This time Hermione knew that she didn't imagine the half-smile that breezed over his face.

"Very well."

* * *

"Hermione! How very nice to see you so soon…!" An uncomfortably familiar voice (last heard moaning _ahh… ahhh…_ in her ear just a few hours previously) startled Hermione as she gathered the tea things.

Eyes widening, Hermione cast a surreptitious look behind her to make sure that Snape was still lingering outside the cramped room that housed their filing cabinets. To a new recruit, it might have seemed a curious misplacement that the MLE's wonderful Instant-boiling Tea Kettles were situated in the same room as the towering filing cabinets, but Hermione knew better. She knew that Harwood had intentionally arranged the office in this manner to discourage his staff from skulking off to tea every hour. She had to admit it was rather effective – hardly anyone was happy to endure the constant barrage of charmed parchment whizzing over their heads (and occasionally _onto_ the aforementioned heads) as they made a cup of tea. It certainly cut down on the number of tea breaks they had versus the number they _wished_ they had.

Snape's back was to them, but Hermione didn't want to risk him overhearing her conversation. She replied in a soft hiss. "Oh, Ernie! Er- good morning. Look, I -"

"So, babe... I thought maybe we could meet up tonight for a little bit of sweet, sweet loving…?" _Urgh._ The way he said _sweet, sweet loving_ made her want to gag. And _babe._ Ew.

"Um –Ernie, I don't think so… also I'm working, and I really, _really_ shouldn't be discussing this right now…"

"Come on babe… last night was great, wasn't it? We should have a repeat performance…"

"To be very honest, I didn't enjoy it all that much, Ernie. So maybe not." Hermione winced inwardly as she saw his crestfallen expression.

But he recovered quickly, and retorted with a wink. "Look, maybe we focussed a bit too much on me last night. But tonight we can focus on you! _Every_ part of you…"

Ew. Ew. _Ew_. Well they had certainly focussed solely on Ernie last night, but right now the thought of him touching her breasts again made Hermione want to gag.

"No, thanks, Ernie. Look – I'm sorry to disappoint but I _really_ have to go…" Hermione clutched the kettle to herself, filled with cool water that would heat to boiling the instant she said the charm. Everyone knew that tea needed to be made with freshly boiling water, after all.

This time Ernie grabbed her shoulder and gave her a little shake. "C'mon Granger… you know you want me."

 _Why_ do _blokes say things like that? Whoever thought this was the surest way to access what was underneath a woman's knickers?_

Unfortunately Ernie's "little shake" turned out to be rather too forceful for Hermione's already tense nerves, and she ended up sloshing a good amount of the water onto her chest. She yelped, cursing herself for her clumsiness and Ernie for being, well, _Ernie_. "Oh _bugger._ Look what you've done!"

"Miss Granger -?"

A deep voice interrupted whatever tirade she was about to launch into. Snape had poked his head into the room, obviously to investigate the racket, and had come face to face with yet another former student. Although she was the one who was literally damp and red in the face, Hermione thought that nobody could have looked as shocked and terrified and embarrassed in that moment as Ernie did then. Ernie was staring at Snape like Snape was a banshee. Or a dementor. Or… like a Professor Snape, perhaps. There were probably legends told in Hogwarts of the dreaded Potions Master Severus Snape, whispered in the same hushed tones used to discuss banshees and dementors…

Snape's eyes narrowed. "I know you." His voice held the same silky, dark quality that Hermione remembered from Potions classes, all those years ago. Somehow this time it made her want to snicker instead of quickly checking on the status of Harry and Ron's potions, one hand covering her mouth to whisper instructions, whilst the other hand focussed on chopping her own pungent honeysuckle roots carefully.

"Er – Professor Snape! Um – er…"

"Mr MacMillan… I remember you." Snape drew himself to his full height and crossed his arms. With his long robes and intense glare he certainly looked like the angry professor of her memories. "What do you suppose is going on here?"

" _Fifty points from Hufflepuff!"_ Hermione felt like adding. But she controlled herself. More humiliation for Ernie was really unnecessary.

"Er – nothing, Professor. Er – I'd best be going now… er, sir."

Snape acquiesced with a shallow nod, and Ernie shuffled past him looking very much like a chastised student who had just been given detention. Probably something nasty, like cleaning the toilets under the sulky supervision of Mr Filch.

Hermione beamed at Snape, noticing belatedly that she still had water splashed all over the top of her now very clingy work robes. _And without a bra too!_ She grimaced at the sight of her obvious nipples, erect from the cold water. She cast a quick wandless cleansing charm and passed the kettle to Snape. As she turned to face him, she could have sworn that she saw a strange expression on his face. He tore his eyes from her chest to her face, and to her surprise she noticed spots of colour high on his cheeks. _That was… odd._

"Er - shall we?"

 _ **\- Later that day – in the evening**_ **. -**

"Ginny, I think I'm defective at sex."

Ginevra Potter née Weasley snorted indelicately and muttered a charm on the lamb stew bubbling over the stove, lowering the heat down to let it simmer nicely. The redheaded witch had not _exactly_ inherited her mother's incredible skill at cooking magic, but supper at the Potters' home never disappointed. The delicious fragrance of lamb stew and rice made Hermione's eyes water – now, if only a man could delight her as much as a good meal did…. "Another disappointing beau, I suppose?"

"Very much so. And I had such high hopes for Ernie's penis, too..." Hermione stopped to coo at the little bundle in her arms. Widdle James Potter, the adorable munchkin, at only three months old, rarely did anything but blink and stare open-mouthed at her, but Hermione thought that he was so very wonderful. As his godmother, it was probably expected of Hermione to fuss over the little cherub, but fortunately for her it took little effort to fall completely in love with his chubby face, framed by a shock of dark hair… and his squishy pink ears... Oh and his little fists…! Hermione cooed at him again.

Ginny smiled at the sight of Hermione fawning over her son. Like mothers everywhere, she thought her son the most beautiful, perfect little man in the world. It hardly surprised her that her friend would think the same. "Well, how is Ernie otherwise? Is he at least interesting? Nice? Intelligent?"

"I'm not looking for a boyfriend _,_ Ginny." Hermione snuggled the littlest Potter closer to her as he yawned. Oh, his yawn was so _sweet._ "I just want a man who can give me an orgasm. Maybe even two! I've heard that it's possible. Anyway, Ernie turned out to be a bit of pushy jerk."

"Wait – so you've _never_ gotten off during sex?" Ginny stared at her, open-mouthed. She probably didn't even hear the second part of Hermione's rant about Ernie.

"Nuh-uh."

"Have you considered that maybe… you're not into men?"

"Yes, considered it, and tested it. Had one… no _two_ one night-stands with women. Neither was particularly enjoyable. Actually, the second time was just to make sure. You know – scientific rigour and all that." Hermione shrugged and rearranged her robes as James Potter began to snore in her arms, adorably, of course.

"Oh." Ginny was almost lost for words. Almost, but not quite – because growing up as the youngest child and only daughter in a boisterous clan of seven made one impervious to ever running out of things to say. "Well, perhaps you need to be a bit more adventurous during sex! You know, different positions, that sort of thing."

"I thought the same, Gin. I tried every position that I could make out from the weirdly-translated copy of the Karma Sutra I got at Flourish and Blotts – I think maybe some of the illustrations were incorrectly copied too... Er – and yes, well, I have also convinced several of my partners into trying the… shall we say _non-conventional positions?_ You know what I mean."

Well, it wasn't a sure thing that Ginny knew what she meant. But some things just didn't need to be verbalised.

"Huh." Now Ginny seemed stumped. Oh no, she was just gearing up to something she thought was important but didn't think Hermione would approve (Hermione recognised the determined look in her eyes). "Okay – so I know you say you don't want a boyfriend, and you know, I respect that." Hermione braced herself as Ginny took a deep breath before continuing, "But maybe… just _maybe_ you would enjoy sex more if it was more… intimate. Like, with a lover. Not a one-night stand."

"Oh, Ginny… I tried that." Hermione tried not to look crestfallen but knew she was failing at least a little bit. "Remember me and Ron?"

Ginny grimaced and patted Hermione's arm sympathetically. Hermione almost flinched, but controlled herself. She didn't want sympathy! She was over Ron!

"Ginny…! I'm most definitely over our relationship – I'm not pining over him or anything like that. But we had a fantastic companionship. We were great mates, and we loved each other. But despite that, I have to say, and I'm _sure_ Ron would agree with me – the sex was certainly nothing to write home about - so loving each other didn't make it more enjoyable for either of us."

Ginny was trying hard not to think about her best friend having sex with her brother. She winced and shook her head to rid herself of that unsavoury image. "I'm not saying that great companionship equals great sex, Hermione. I'm just saying that _maybe_ you would enjoy sex more if you genuinely cared about the person you were taking to your bed."

"Oh." Hermione considered this. "Well I suppose you and Harry…"

Ginny blushed and smiled – she looked both embarrassed and pleased. "Harry is a very… _generous_ lover."

Of course he was. _Dear Harry, dear_ sweet _Harry._ Whatever faults he had, and after months of traipsing in the wilderness with him, the gods _knew_ that Hermione was aware that he had faults - selfishness was certainly not one of them. Hermione always looked back on those days with a mixture of anguish and bittersweet nostalgia. That tall, scrawny messy-haired boy with the constantly crooked glasses… he was certainly one of the best people she had ever known, and he had grown into one of the best men she would probably ever know. Harry had been willing to die to defeat Lord Voldemort, had been willing to lay down his life to ensure their survival.

If he had been ready to do _that,_ then well, it didn't surprise Hermione that Ginny had no complaints in the bedroom.

"Speaking of Harry, I think your wards just tingled."

"Oh – just in time! The stew should be ready now…" Ginny patted her hair unconsciously, smoothing it down like a nervous girl going on a first date. Hermione smiled to herself, she thought it was sweet that the Potters sometimes still behaved like teenagers in love.

Anyway, at least Harry's arrival let her off the hook. It was bad enough that Hermione's mother took a rather keen interest in her love life, always bemoaning the lack of grandbabies. Her father was the same, just rather less vocal about the whole thing. Goodness knows she didn't need Ginny to start joining the "Let's find Hermione a boyfriend!" club.

"Hermione…" _Damn, spoke too soon._ "Look, you've tried having sex with all these people who you really don't even _like_ , and it hasn't been great. Maybe you just need to put the 'love' in 'lover', if you take my meaning." There was a clicking noise as Harry stepped through the front door and reset the wards. "Just think about what I'm saying… okay?"

Hermione was spared from responding by the arrival of Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived-to-make-it-in-time-for-supper. He grinned boyishly at her and gave her an affectionate peck on the cheek. Hermione made to hand over the baby to Harry, but he shook his head and winked at her. He knew how much Hermione adored baby James, so she had his leave to cuddle his son however much she wanted. Harry wandered over to the magical stove and gently placed a hand over his wife's waist, murmuring something in her ear. Even from a metre away, Hermione could see Ginny's cheeks suffuse with colour.

As Harry flicked his wand absent-mindedly to set the table, his Auror robes flapped in a manner not unlike ones she had seen earlier draped over Snape. _Severus Snape._ The pleased glow on Hermione's face flickered to a thoughtful expression. Thinking about him made her mind dance back to earlier that day…

 _ **\- earlier**_ **-**

 _They had sat back down in the meeting room, fresh parchment spread out over the table, piping hot tea sitting in front of them. Snape had pulled out the notes he had brought with him detailing his investigation into tracing the origin of the suspicious Gringotts' vaults. The first thing Hermione had wanted to do was to confirm the trail of Galleons back to Narcissa Malfoy. Not that she didn't trust Snape. She was just… thorough._

" _That was an interesting… altercation." Snape interrupted her thoughts suddenly. There was a ghost of the familiar smirk that Hermione remembered from his years teaching at Hogwarts. This time, she was sure it was now mirrored on her face, along with traces of embarrassment at having given her former teacher an eyeful of her drenched bosom. She also thought she could detect a trace of uncertainty in his voice. That was odd. She had never known Snape to be uncertain – intense, unpleasant, sarcastic, certainly. But his voice had always held a surety in everything he had said._

" _Oh. Well I suppose you don't want excessive details… you always did ask me to stop saying too much in class." Hermione couldn't resist saying pointedly. Snape had the grace to look slightly chastened. Only very slightly. "Suffice it to say that Ernie and I work well in a professional capacity, and that's as far as it goes. He proved himself rather too clingy for my taste."_

 _For a moment, Snape looked utterly stunned. Then he looked crestfallen. And then… furious. Utterly furious. Hermione almost flinched with the power of his emotion, until she realised suddenly that his anger had not been directed at her, but at… himself?_

" _You… Weasley…?" Snape seemed at a loss for words. "I am sorry. I didn't know."_

" _Oh." Hermione stared at him in surprise. "I thought everybody knew. It was all over the Daily Prophet for what seemed like weeks. I stopped reading the papers after that."_

" _I stopped reading the Prophet after I got out of St Mungo's." Snape said, still looking chagrined. He didn't seem to want to say anything more, but Hermione had the urge to comfort him. Who would have thought that she would feel so affected by the kicked-puppy expression that Snape was currently wearing?_

" _Don't worry about it, Prof- I mean, Mr Snape. It wasn't working out between Ron and I. And it was years ago. I'm not horribly heartbroken or anything like that. To be honest it was a bit of a relief when it was over – we could both stop pretending that we were happy in the relationship."_

 _Snape ran a hand over his face and seemed to recover. She reached out of pat his arm, and to her surprise found it trembling. Hermione was startled at how much the revelation of her and Ron's break-up had affected him. To be fair, the news that she had split with Ron seemed to have shocked everyone, with the exception of the now-former couple. There had been a lot of talk about "soul-mates" and how "it was meant to be!", particularly from Molly Weasley… But this seemed to be an uncharacteristic show of emotion from her formerly sarcastic, surly professor._

 _Of course, back then he had been playing a part, embodying an unpleasant persona to detract attention from who he really was. Perhaps she didn't actually know him at all._

 _Perhaps now she would actually have a chance to do just that._

 _Hermione gave him a small smile. "Shall we continue?"_

 _To her great surprise, he smiled back._

 **:)**


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you to everyone who read and left comments on the last chapter! I really appreciate each and every one.**

 **For those who are wondering if this story will be completed, rest assured that I am working on it! I do have the entire story planned, but most of the writing is still in progress…**

 **Please enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer** : No I do not own Harry Potter.

 **Rating/warnings** : Please note the rating. This story is rated **M** for language and sexual content. There are also mentions of violence.

* * *

 **Chapter 3: Meeting the Malfoys**

"Mmmm fantastic stew, Gin." Hermione murmured between spoonfuls of delicious, delicious food.

Ginny sniggered at Hermione's table manners, or lack thereof. She knew that her friend spent far too much time at work than strictly necessary, and tended to skip meals when she got too caught up in her reading, much like she did at school. At least Hogwarts had regular mealtimes. The Ministry, or _Casa de Hermione Granger…_ did not.

Harry smirked. He was stuffing his mouth as well, but did so with slightly more decorum than the obviously famished Hermione. "Remember the times when you used to tell me and Ron off for eating like pigs during mealtimes at school?"

"Shut up, Harry." Hermione mumbled in between mouthfuls of food. He continued to smirk so she aimed a kick at him under the table. _Missed. Damn Harry and his excellent reflexes._

"Anyway, speaking of fantastic food, Molly invited us for supper next week at the Burrow –that includes you, of course."

 _Of course?_ Invitations to the Burrow had been sparse on Hermione's end in the years after she and Ron had split up. At first, Molly had said that she hadn't wanted Hermione to feel uncomfortable in a house full of her ex-partner's family, and out of respect she had agreed. However, it seemed as though Ron's mother assumed that Hermione would _never_ be comfortable with the Weasleys (despite visiting the youngest Weasley and her husband for supper every fortnight) - it had been _years_ since Hermione had been invited to the Weasley family home.

"R-really?" Hermione stuttered, grateful that she still managed to direct the piece of carrot she had been eating down her throat instead of into her windpipe. "Why now? After so long?"

"George will be there." Ginny cut in and silenced Harry with a look. He had probably been about to say something diplomatic and comforting and not at all true about how Molly had finally forgiven Hermione for giving up someone as wonderful as one of her sons. Harry shrugged and let his wife continue. "That's why Mum asked if you wanted to come. I know you haven't seen him in…ages."

 _No, indeed_. The last time she saw George was almost five years ago, exiting a shop in Diagon Alley, looking like a shell of his former self. Hermione had wanted to call out to him, her arm had already been half-raised when George spotted her. Instead of waving back, he had stopped and stared at her before Disapparating away. Hermione had taken that as a sign that her company had been unwelcome. A knot of guilt twisted in her gut that she hadn't thought of him much at all since then.

"How is he?" Hermione whispered, her mood suddenly turned pensive.

Harry and Ginny exchanged a look. There was a pause before Harry answered, "Better." He grimaced as if dissatisfied with the answer. "Actually, yes. Much better. He actually smiled a few times when he came over a few weeks ago to see James."

All of a sudden, an image rose unbidden to Hermione's mind, almost jarring her with its intensity. _Severus Snape, smiling at her at the Ministry, his arm under her hand. The crinkling at the corners of his eyes as he looked at her with affection._

"Oh!" Hermione exclaimed before she could stop herself. The Potters stared at her and she flushed. "Sorry, I just thought of something suddenly…"

"That's okay, Hermione." Ginny smiled. Such Hermione-esque behaviour was tolerated with affection in the Potter household. Sudden flashes of inspiration were a particularly _Hermione_ trait. "You should see George for yourself and see how he's doing. What were you thinking of?"

"I met Severus Snape today!" Hermione savoured the surprised looks on her friends' faces – she was sure she must have looked fairly similar this morning. Harry dropped his spoon and gaped at her while Ginny's mouth opened and closed as though she wanted to say something but couldn't. Hermione supposed even the famous Weasley ability to talk non-stop had limits.

"How is he doing?" Harry recovered first, green eyes glinting. After Harry had seen the memories that Snape had given to him at the Shrieking Shack, he had been filled with guilt and self-recrimination for his hatred of Snape all those years. Instead of wallowing in negative emotions, he had channelled that negativity into an indefatigable drive to clear his former teacher of charges relating to alleged crimes committed under the guise of a Death Eater and spy. But still, Harry had not seen Snape since he walked out of St Mungo's seven years ago, opting to leave the older wizard to his privacy.

"He looks… well." Hermione said brightly. They seemed to be echoing their earlier conversation about George, and Hermione was struck by how she seemed so convinced within herself that Snape _was_ indeed doing well, whereas Harry hadn't appeared so sure. Perhaps it was wishful thinking on her part. "Really well, actually… Sure, he's still thin and wears those great big billowing robes and he still does that smirk, but when he showed up at work today, I almost threw my arms around him!"

Harry and Ginny burst out laughing, and Ginny sputtered out between giggles. "I wish I had been there! You should have hugged him. I would have paid good Galleons to have seen his response!"

"Unfortunately I can't tell you what he's there for." Hermione frowned apologetically at the Potters as Ginny got her giggles under control. "Work confidentiality, I'm afraid. But if it gets bad I suppose the Auror office will get involved."

"That's alright – I'll keep an eye out for reports. I trust Snape's judgement anyway. If he's involving you, though… then it must be serious, whatever it is." Harry gave Hermione with a meaningful look. "I don't think he'd get involved with the MLE lightly."

"I'll be careful, Harry." Hermione said reassuringly. _We just potentially have a bomber with an intimate knowledge of Dark Arts on our hands, what's the problem?_

As they enjoyed the rest of the meal, chatting aimlessly as good friends do, Hermione reflected on how different their conversations about Snape were back during the war and now, with Voldemort dead and Snape's true allegiance revealed. How many times had they said things like " _He's a greasy git… bat of the dungeons… filthy Death Eater… he can't be trusted!"_

And now…. " _I trust Snape's judgement anyway."_

 _Maybe this was why Snape started smiling again_ , Hermione thought, smiling too.

* * *

"Okay, Mr Snape – I think it would be better if you tried talking to Mrs Malfoy without me present… I've hardly ever spoken to her, and I don't think she trusts anyone except her son and old friends now." Hermione rattled off instructions to the man next to her, minutes after they had Apparated to the location a short distance from Malfoy Manor.

Snape glanced at her with an amused glint in his dark eyes. "Agreed, Miss Granger."

They had agreed that the first thing to do was to confront Narcissa about the money from her account that was apparently being used to pay for Snape's potion-making services. Hermione was gratified that Snape seemed to be giving her room to take leadership with this case, but also mildly anxious – wasn't he the master spy here? Shouldn't she be taking advice from him?

In any case, visiting Narcissa with Snape was probably not a terrible idea. Apparently they had not seen each other since Lucius Malfoy's funeral four years ago. And after all, Snape was the only person Narcissa had trusted with her son's life all those years ago during the war. Perhaps she could confide in him if she had inadvertently become entangled with the Dark Arts once again.

Hermione felt wards buzz around her as she and Snape stepped through the threshold onto the lane that led to the front door. Having been to Malfoy Manor several times since the war, as Blaise's date to the occasional party that Draco Malfoy held, she knew that the wards would notify Draco immediately of their coming. Even though it was a weekday morning, Hermione thought the Master of Malfoy Manor would probably be at home – as far as she knew, he didn't think employment was necessary for a Pureblood of his standards.

She smirked. Years ago this would have incensed her. Now she was just glad they were both alive. Strange as it might have seemed to teenage Hermione, she quite liked Draco now. Perhaps they would never really be _friends,_ but he seemed to have gotten over that stupid _Muggle-borns are below me_ policy he used to live by, so they found each other's presence far more tolerable than during their Hogwarts days.

As soon as they reached the front door, it was flung open by a breathless house-elf who attempted to scowl at Hermione and to beam at Snape at the same time. The clash of facial expressions made the creature look rather like a badger trying to vomit.

Snape raised an eyebrow and said to the house-elf in a deep, imperious tone that somehow made Hermione's toes curl slightly. _Gods, she needed a good shag_ desperately _if Severus Snape's voice was able to generate that reaction from her._

"Tell your Master that Hermione Granger and Severus Snape are here."

"Whemmy will tell Master Malfoy that the Dark wizard and his low-born friend are visiting." The house-elf bowed deeply to Snape and hissed at Hermione before leaving.

 _Whemmy?_ Hermione mouthed at Snape. He rolled his eyes and shrugged. He didn't seem discomfited by being described as _the Dark wizard_. Maybe he took it as a literal description – he was dressed in all black, after all. Hermione didn't mind being referred to as the _low-born friend_ either. It seemed rather tame compared with some of the insults that had previously aimed at her.

A moment later, Draco Malfoy emerged from a dark corridor, hair still tousled with sleep. He was wearing a deep green dressing gown and was carrying a cup of tea. At the sight of Snape and Hermione, he grinned and tossed the tea down his throat quickly.

"Severus, Hermione, what a surprise!" Draco charmed the teacup away and reached out of shake Snape's hand and to give Hermione a peck on the cheek. "My apologies if the house-elf insulted you. I keep telling her that the war is over and that we're all friends now, but she ignores me. Whemmy is rather old – I think it's possible that she's going a bit senile, if that can happen for house-elves."

If Snape was surprised at the friendliness of the greeting between these former school rivals, he didn't show it. He just gazed warmly at his godson. "It is good to see you, Draco. However, I am afraid that we are not here purely for a social visit." Draco raised his eyebrows in a way that clearly said _"Well,_ o _bviously"._ "I must speak with your mother. Miss Granger is here to see her on a… professional visit, and we believed that it would be best for me to speak with her alone."

Draco's assessing gaze flicked between his two unexpected guests. He knew that Hermione worked for the MLE, therefore a "professional visit" as Snape had put it could not be for a trivial purpose. For a moment he hung by the door, hesitating as he continued to study them. But then he sighed, eyes darkening as he stepped aside to let them pass. "I knew our quiet days could not last. I have no idea what it is you need to see my mother about, Severus, but I know that it cannot be good news."

For a moment Hermione wondered if it was _Draco_ who had masterminded the whole scheme, using his mother's name to hide behind. But then she remembered the sadness in his eyes as he said _I knew our quiet days could not last_ , and she knew that he was as desperate to hang on to their fragile peace as she was.

The stepped through the corridor, which brightened with magical light as the Master of the manor walked along. "She is in her sitting room." They stepped through another corridor, and another, and another, until they reached a light mahogany door. The Lady's rooms. Draco knocked lightly and twisted the doorknob, turning to face them without opening the door fully. Beneath his calm façade, the slight tremble of his fingers on the door betrayed his anxiety.

Here Draco reached out a hand and grasped the taller wizard's shoulder in a tight grip. "Severus, whatever it may be, please be gentle with her. She is not who she once was."

Snape nodded with understanding. "I will, Draco – you have my word."

With that, Snape disappeared into the room in a billow of robes. The two younger people stared after him.

"Merlin's beard, I keep thinking I should get robes like that. They're so… _impressive._ " Draco gaped after his godfather. He seemed to have recovered from his earlier anxiety.

"I was _just_ thinking the same thing! Do you think he gets them at Madame Malkin's?"

"No idea." Draco walked away slowly from his mother's rooms and signalled Hermione to follow him. "I suppose you're not going to tell me what all this is about."

"Not till after Snape finishes talking to your mother, I'm afraid."

Draco gave a grunt of assent. "Hmm. It's fortunate that you're here actually, I could use your advice…"

"Trying to remove your head from up your arse, Draco? Not sure I can help you there. Seems pretty firmly stuck to me." _Sure, they were being civil to each other, but… old habits die hard._ Hermione grinned to show that she was joking, just in case the ferret didn't have a sense of humour.

"Ha-ha. Very funny, Granger." Draco held the door open to another sitting room only a few doors away and waved Hermione in. There was already a pot of tea there, piping hot. He Summoned a tea cup and saucer and handed it to Hermione before helping himself to tea. "Look – I met this girl at a party last weekend. She's beautiful, sweet, intelligent… the only problem is, she's _Muggle-born_."

 _Oh, Merlin's left testicle…_ If he was going to say what she thought he was going to say, Hermione was going to _hex_ him.

"… And I have no idea what Muggle-born girls like! I've only ever dated Purebloods! Does she like… flowers? Romantic poetry? Chocolates? Long walks on the beach? Come on, Hermione – help an old school mate out." Pausing to sip his tea, Draco perched elegantly on a chair and stared at her intently.

 _Huh_. Well that was not what Hermione had thought he was going to say. She settled down opposite him and stirred her own brew. "Well…"

* * *

"Narcissa, please excuse my unexpected arrival." Severus reached out to receive Madam Malfoy's hand and bowed over it respectfully. "I am afraid something has occurred of a serious nature."

They sat in a beautifully decorated room painted in a light grey, silver curtains hanging from tall windows facing the gardens of Malfoy estate. The lady was dressed impeccably despite apparently not being ready to receive guests, draped in dress robes of fine silk in mourning black, with her hair arranged in a precise chignon. Severus noticed that the dress robes seemed to hang rather more loosely around her figure than they used to – and she had already been slender when he last saw her, years ago. The lines around her eyes were etched more deeply than he remembered, and as he noticed a tremor in her hand as she held it out to him.

"I gathered that." Narcissa Malfoy smiled wryly, grasping the hand of the wizard before her. "My house-elf has informed me that you arrived with Hermione Granger. Since Draco is not having a gala this evening, I assume that you are both here on Ministry business."

Severus nodded, dark eyes holding her gaze intently. "Narcissa." He paused as she directed him to his seat. "I must speak bluntly. Some days ago, I received information that your Gringotts vault is being used to finance a potential criminal act."

Narcissa's serene countenance faltered. Her eyes widened and Severus saw that her grip on the arm of her chair tightened. " _My_ Gringottsvault? You must be joking. I have not dealt with my finances in years. Lucius," her voice trembled slightly as she whispered the name, so tenderly it was like a caress, "he used to handle all of that. Now my son does. To make things simpler for him, I believe that Draco has combined our amassed fortunes into a single vault. I do not think that I have accessed the account in my name since my marriage –and only then to inform the Goblins to change my name from Narcissa Black to _Malfoy_."

She broke eye contact, and for a moment appeared as though she was about to rise to her feet. Then she spoke, softly, as though afraid of the words that escaped her. "You can… you can _look_ , if it would comfort you. I assume the Granger girl would not be convinced by my word alone."

There was a pause, and then, in a stronger voice she added, "I will do what it takes to protect my family."

Neither spoke for several moments. Then, a gentle baritone responded, "If you wish."

Narcissa turned back to face Severus, and he was struck suddenly by the steeliness in her gaze. "Do it."

Their gazes met.

" _Legilimens."_

And he delved into her mind.

* * *

"You're still not going to tell me what this is all about."

It had been scarcely more than a quarter of an hour since they had arrived. Hermione knew that Draco was getting restless. Talking about the new love interest of his had taken up his attention for most of that time but… well, there was only so much that she could say about how to win a witch's affections. It wasn't as though Hermione was or would ever be particularly invested in researching romantic gestures.

"I'm afraid not, Draco." Hermione aimed her wand at the kettle and it started to boil again. "More tea?"

* * *

"It is as I feared, then."

Severus pulled back from Narcissa's mind gently, knowing the immense strain that had been placed on the already fragile woman. She gasped at the sensation of the intrusion leaving her mind. Narcissa pressed trembling fingers to her forehead as she attempted to steady her breathing. "I… My apologies – what did you say?"

"I said that it is as I feared…" Severus put a long-fingered hand into his robes and pulled out a small phial. He handed it to her gently, like a groom handling a spooked horse. "Take this." The woman sitting across from him looked up with wide eyes and stared at him and his offering. He added,  
"I brewed it myself."

Narcissa took the phial with numb fingers and glanced at the label, written in Severus' hand. "Headache Solution…" She managed a wry smile. "You sly fox. You _knew_. You were always too clever for your own good."

"You flatter me, Narcissa." Severus leaned back and pressed the tips of his fingers together, holding her gaze until she uncorked the bottle and sipped its contents gradually. "I am sorry to have had to pain you."

"It must be important, whatever it is." Narcissa looked surprised at the taste of the potion. "This doesn't taste as bad as the potions I order from Diagon Alley. What in Merlin's name have you done to it?"

"Only a few small editions here and there to improve the flavour." Severus smirked and Narcissa's hard gaze relented as she released a short breathless laugh. His expression turned grave as he continued. "Yes, I am afraid that the situation is rather serious. I suspected that you knew nothing about how your funds are apparently being used, but I had to know for certain. I will return to Miss Granger and provide her with the memories as required to clear your name."

"And then…?"

"And then the real trouble starts." Severus said gruffly.

They sat in silence for a few moments, no other noise in the room save for the gentle chiming of a clock.

"I neglected to say…" Narcissa sipped the last of the potion and placed the phial on the side table. "You look very well, Severus. In fact… you look _wonderful_. I cannot remember a time when you appeared this way."

Severus didn't reply immediately. He reached forward and recovered the empty phial, placing it back into his pocket. "Thank you."

Narcissa surreptitiously brushed unshed tears from her eyes. "I cannot believe it has been so many years since we last saw each other… and I hardly spoke to you at Lucius' funeral. How long did it take you to… recover?"

"From Nagini's bite? More than a year." Severus looked away to brush some invisible dust from his robes. "From the darkness of my own creation? I am still… as they say, _working on it._ "

"How do you do it?" Narcissa reached forward, her gaze seeking his with something akin to desperation. "How do you… move on? How does one be happy… aft- after all we've seen? After all we've _done_?"

A bark of laughter – _Draco's voice_ – followed by a peal of silvery giggles – _Miss Granger_ – the sounds were muffled through the walls, but in the sudden silence of Narcissa Malfoy's sitting room, they rang as clear as a bell.

Severus smiled. Narcissa raised an eyebrow as his expression. "Listen to them. Miss Granger and Draco… they were _children_ during the war. They were even - as much as children can be – considered enemies. And now, they talk and laugh and share each other's company. They have moved on." He leaned forward. "They understand that the world has changed. It is no longer as dark as it once was. We are _free_ now."

Narcissa opened her mouth as if to speak, then stopped and pursed her lips. Finally she managed to say, "I feel selfish… thinking of one day being happy without my husband." Her fingers stroked the cool metal of her wedding band, never once removed from her finger after more than twenty-five years.

"Lucius would not see it in that way. He would want you to be happy." Severus said gently, "And for what it's worth, I miss him too."

"It is difficult to move on… as you suggest. Sometimes I feel as though I do not wish to." The words were spoken so softly, as though she did not mean to say them aloud.

"I know. I, too, have suffered great loss. At times it feels as though the only reason for living is to feel more grief."

They sat once again in companionable silence. It was broken by Narcissa's sigh. She looked curiously at Severus. "You certainly seem to have moved on." _From Lily._ The words remained unsaid, but the meaning was clear enough. "Could it be that you have found… somebody else?"

Severus let out a sound that from a coarser man would have been a snort. "Hardly. Women look at my nose and run in the other direction."

"Don't be ridiculous. It is a noble nose. Anyway, you _know_ what I mean, Severus."

"Do I?" He raised a dark eyebrow, smirking.

Narcissa glared at him. After he continued smirking, unfazed, she threw up her hands in defeat. "Fine, be mysterious."

Severus' smirk widened momentarily before his expression grew more serious. "I should take my leave, Narcissa. There is work to be done. I fear."

She nodded and rose. Severus followed suit, unfolding gracefully from his seat. "I wish you every success, my old friend." She raised her hand and he bowed, grasping it gently. "Please send my regards to Miss Granger."

He nodded. "I will." Opening the door, Severus paused and turned his shoulders to face her again. "By the way, I sold that awful house on Spinner's End. So when you and Draco come by for tea at my new cottage, I think you will be rather proud of the improvement. Just, please, do _not_ involve me in any more Unbreakable Vows."

A small smile bloomed over Narcissa's severe countenance. "I look forward to the invitation."

* * *

They were standing at the front door of Malfoy Manor. Hermione was buzzing with nerves, wanting desperately to know how the conversation between Snape and Narcissa Malfoy had gone. But now was hardly the time, with Draco looking so anxious.

"Draco, please accept my apologies for not coming more often to visit your mother." Snape's face gave barely anything away, but his gentle tone to his godson suggested to Hermione that he believed Madam Malfoy to be innocent. She restrained herself and continued to wait patiently.

"It's alright, Severus. I don't think she would have been ready… before now." Draco's lips quirked to make a small smile. "Perhaps we can expect you for supper one day? Whemmy may be a senile old harridan, but she still cooks excellent meals."

"It would be my pleasure." Snape shook Draco's hand warmly.

"You too, Granger. I'll regale you with tales of my romantic success, and you can tell me more about how sad your life is."

"Sod off, you ferret."

With those delightful words, the two visitors turned to leave. As soon as they passed through the wards at the threshold of Malfoy estate, Hermione whipped her head to the side to examine Snape's face more closely. His expression was closed, and he seemed deep in thought. By the time they reached the Apparition point, Snape had still not said a word. Hermione thought it best not to interrupt his thought process. Although he had been mellow enough since they had met the day before for the first time in years, there was a not insignificant part of her that was still a little bit terrified of him.

"Let me buy you lunch." He said finally.

 _Lunch? I want to know about Narcissa Malfoy!_ Hermione almost exclaimed, but she stopped herself in time. She _was_ hungry, and she realised that she desperately needed the lav. How _many_ cups of tea had she drunk in Draco's company?

"Alright – there's a Muggle pub close to the Ministry entrance. I'll Apparate us there. Hang on…"

* * *

"Well… I suppose that was not a particularly huge surprise."

Hermione rubbed her fists into her eyes and stared solemnly at her fish pie. They had entered a Muggle pub after quickly Transfiguring their wizarding robes into some more appropriate. Once they had sat down and ordered, Snape casting a wandless _Muffliato,_ he had told her everything that had passed between him and Narcissa at Malfoy Manor.

 _Narcissa doesn't know anything, after all_. Her stomach rumbled and she poked at her pie half-heartedly. It was strange to feel both discouraged and relieved at the same time.

"I suppose you are disappointed to have lost your only lead." Hermione glanced up as Snape spoke. _Damn Legilimency!_ She opened her mouth to scold him for looking into her mind, but he chuckled and said, "There's no need for Legilimency, Miss Granger. Your thoughts are written all over your face."

 _Curse her Gryffindor openness._ Hermione sighed and continued poking her food. Across the table, Snape tucked into his own pie with far more decorum. "Yes, I am disappointed. But also relieved, mind you. I didn't want Narcissa Malfoy to be involved. And neither do I want Draco to be. I thought perhaps we shouldn't interview him today, and I am glad you didn't insist upon it... I just think the Malfoy's have been through rather a lot already." She paused, thinking. "But it may be worth checking with the Auror department to see if any former Death Eaters have been doing anything suspicious lately. I'll arrange a secretive meeting with Harry."

"That sounds reasonable. I will check in on my old contacts and see if anything _interesting_ has been happening in their lives. Perhaps some of them have become bored in middle-age." There was a note of surprise in his voice as Snape continued speaking. "I confess, I was unaware that you were so… intimate with the Malfoys, particularly Draco."

"Oh, Draco and I aren't best friends or anything like that." Hermione swallowed a forkful of her pie. Suddenly realising how hungry she was, she started eating with renewed vigour. After a few moments of blissful eating, Hermione turned back to the conversation. "I dated Blaise Zabini for a while - you remember him – Slytherin… friends with Draco?" _Meant to be good in bed…_ "I went to Malfoy Manor as Blaise's date a few times when Draco held parties. They were pretty fabulous parties. Actually, the house has been wonderfully redecorated, if you ask me. Draco tore down a good few rooms and refurbished them completely. The room where Bellatrix Black tortured me… I told Draco about that and he got rid of that room entirely. I think it's –"

"Good gods, she used the _Cruciatus_ on you?"

"Yes?" Hermione stopped eating to stare at him. All her chatter and _that_ was the one thing he picked up on? "It was when we were searching for the Horcruxes… Harry, Ron and I were captured, and, well… she wanted to know what we were up to."

"I am so sorry."

"It wasn't your fault." For the second time in two days, Hermione felt as though she had to comfort him. _What had changed so much about this man? Had he always been so… complicated?_

Well, of course he had. Not for the first time, Hermione reflected that she really didn't know him at all.

"Perhaps not directly… and yet at the same time, in many ways, they were." Snape mused, half to himself.

"Anyway," Hermione began to change the subject. She started to realise that _she did not like it_ when Severus Snape looked depressed. "I started talking to Draco again since he and Blaise are such good mates. He's changed a lot since school. He isn't the stuck-up git he was then, anymore. I mean, he's still an arrogant git, but he's a lot more tolerable now."

Snape smirked at that. He was probably remembering all the times he caught them hexing each other back at Hogwarts. "To answer your earlier question, yes I do remember Mr Zabini. Although I hardly thought he was your type – intellectual pursuit was _not_ high on his list of priorities."

"And you think it was for Ron?" Hermione grinned, raising an eyebrow. Snape let out a bark of laughter at that. "No, actually, Ron is a lot more intelligent than people give him credit for. He just wasn't very committed to studying back at school. But you're right. Blaise wasn't exactly a fountain of intellect. But that wasn't the reason I dated him." Realising suddenly that she had revealed more than she had initially intended, Hermione almost clapped a hand over her mouth.

"Now you have me really intrigued, Miss Granger." His grin revealed whiter teeth than she remembered. _Hadn't he always had yellow teeth?_

"Er –" _What does one normally say when questioned about one's love life by a former professor?_ "Let's just say that Blaise had certain qualities, according to my former schoolmates, that made him attractive for certain… _physical_ aspects of a relationship? Pleasedon't make me spell it out, Mr Snape."

"Alright." That grin was almost predatory. But then he chuckled and she was off the hook.

 _At least he didn't start harping on about how I should start finding a nice young man to settle down with and start a family._ Hermione mused. Her mother would certainly have found a way to introduce that into the conversation, bless her loving heart.

They lapsed into silence as they continued eating. Hermione finished her pie rather more quickly than Snape, and she sat back in her chair feeling satisfied with a full belly. Now that it was quiet, she began to study the wizard whose company she shared. It was hard not to stare at him – at the hard angles of his face, the prominent nose, the dark expressive eyes – after so long of not seeing his face. After his near-death in the Shrieking Shack, after his time at St Mungo's, whenever Hermione had tried to draw a picture of Severus Snape in her mind, it had depressed her that all her memories of him were bathed in distrust and unpleasantness. She wanted to replace all her old memories of him, angry and tense and mistrustful as a Potions Master surrounded by students who hated him, a spy swearing fealty to two masters who asked him always for _too much_. And at the end, covered in blood, thinking that it was his last breath and whispering to Harry … Hermione didn't want to think about Snape in those times. She wanted to remember him like this – contented, healthy, and unafraid.

 _Even with the threat of a mad bomber lying under our noses._

Even so. This was how she wanted to remember him. To think of all the things they had said about him… all that the thought that he was – traitor, murderer, Death Eater – how much they _hated_ him after Dumbledore's death. Hermione shuddered at the memories. Up till now, she had not realised how grateful she was that she could have a second chance to know the man Severus Snape really was.

Snape seemed discomfited with her scrutiny. He had stopped eating. "What's the matter?"

"Just remembering… how it used to be." Hermione scrunched her nose and tried to articulate herself more clearly. "I keep thinking about how awful we were to you, and how isolated you must have been. You must have felt so alone. I'm so-"

"Please do not apologise, Miss Granger." Snape said abruptly, but in a gentle tone. "Believe me, the isolation was necessary. If I spent too much time around people who _cared_ , I might have cracked and revealed everything, which would have been catastrophic for our side. For what it is worth, you were very young when you became involved in the War. You were very impressionable, and I was easy to hate."

"I don't hate you now." Hermione blurted out.

The look on his face made her stomach flutter pleasantly, and Hermione told herself that _it must be the pie._

"I am glad." He replied.

* * *

 **Next chapter: Hermione has a steamy** **encounter… but with whom?**

 **Hee hee hee…**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello again!**

 **Thank you to everyone who left comments on the last chapter. I hope you all enjoy this update! :)**

 **Disclaimer** : No I do not own Harry Potter.

 **Rating/warnings** : Please note the rating. This story is rated **M** for language and sexual content. There are also mentions of violence.

* * *

 **Chapter 4: Rope**

 _This is promising_ … Hermione thought giddily as the tall wizard before her slipped his hands underneath her robes and pushed them off her shoulders. She moved her arms back onto his broad shoulders as her robes pooled to the floor. He moaned as his mouth slanted over hers, dark hair mixing with her riotous chestnut curls…

"Mmm… 'Ermionyyy…" A deep voice moaned between kisses.

 _Okay, so he pronounced her name a bit weird, but that's fine!_ Hermione fumbled with the buttons on his shirt and pressed her fingers to the skin underneath. _Gods,_ she needed a man. She pulled him to her more aggressively and began to lead him towards the bedroom, almost tripping over their still half-full wineglasses in her haste.

"'Ermiony, would you like to try something a bit different?"

At least, that's what she thought he was saying. Hermione tore her lips from her visitor's neck and gaped at him. "Sorry, Jean. What?"

Jean, the French Auror working with British Ministry of Magic, had a very strong French accent. This was not the problem – in fact, Hermione found it incredibly _sexy,_ hence the wine and heavy petting that was currently in progress. The problem was that he seemed to be stopping… the… kissing...

"Would you like to try something a little bit _different_?"

The particular emphasis on the last word made Hermione raise an eyebrow. As she had mentioned to Ginny, she didn't have anything against being adventurous in the bedroom. But somehow, instinctively, Hermione thought she had better listen carefully to this one before agreeing.

"Er – what did you have in mind?"

Jean smiled, the whites of his perfect teeth gleaming at her. Hermione almost sighed happily. As the daughter of two dentists, lovely teeth had the ability to make her swoon. He pulled out his wand and made a practised motion, a coil of rope appearing in his other hand.

 _Uh, okay…?_

"Let your body surrender to me…"

"What – wait – what? You want to tie me up?" Hermione stared at the rope. "Er – I don't know about that… I have this thing about not being able to access my wand…"

"Come on, 'Ermionyy…" Jean moved closer, caressing her arm, starting to loop the rope around her.

Hermione pulled away, holding her hands in front of her and starting to shake them wildly. "No, no, I'm serious! Look, I'm really sorry to break the mood here, Jean. You're incredibly hot and I _really_ want to have sex with you, but can we do it without anyone being tied up? It's just I have some… some rather uncomfortable memories from the War… and I'd really rather not, okay?"

Jean repeated his earlier sentiments with a slightly more pouty expression this time. _Merlin, he was so handsome but so… annoyingly persistent._ Hermione was certain that it wasn't a language issue - he understood her perfectly, she was sure. His English was better than her French would ever be, and _she_ was Hermione Granger.

"Come on, Jean…" She flicked her wand at the rope in his hands and it Vanished. "Let's start again, shall we? I think I was _here,_ and you were… here." She entwined her arms around his neck and attempted to resume kissing him.

Jean blinked at his sudden empty-handedness, and scowled down at her, pulling away from her kisses. Before Hermione could huff in annoyance, he had already conjured another rope. Jean looked at her meaningfully and pulled her back for a kiss.

The moment Hermione realised that he was _still trying to tie her up_ , her patience snapped and she wrenched herself out of his arms (and his rope). " _Stop it_ , Jean! I don't want to be tied up!"

"Stop being frigid, 'Ermiony!" Jean's handsome face twisted in an annoying scowl as he advanced upon her once again.

Hermione pushed him away and exclaimed loudly. "I am _not being frigid!_ I told you, during the War…"

"Is it going to always be about the War with you, 'Ermiony? I heard you were the girl of the 'Arry Potter's _Golden Trio…_ but I never knew you were so _obsessed_ with the past…"

Fury flashed into Hermione's senses and left her mind blank with rage. Without being fully aware of it, she had Summoned her wand to her hand and aimed it directly at Jean's neck, the point digging into his pulse point. In his shock, Jean stood stock still, his rope still held between trembling fingers.

"Say another word, and I will hex you to oblivion." Hermione said through gritted teeth.

Jean opened and closed his mouth several times, but no words came out. He scrambled away from her and tossed some Floo powder into her fireplace with shaking fingers, whispering something inarticulate in his haste to leave. Green flames rushed upwards moments later, and the wizard disappeared.

" _Shite_!" Hermione stomped her foot angrily, frustration making her want to tear her hair out. She would be lying to herself if at least eighty percent of said frustration was sexual. Okay, maybe ninety. She didn't care that Jean was a jerk. Not at all! She just wanted to shag him! And to make it actually pleasurable this time!

She grumpily noted that she was even wearing lovely lace knickers this evening, in preparation to seduce a lovely man into her bed. Surely, _surely_ if she bedded enough blokes she would find one who could give her the fireworks she so desired. To add to her frustration she knew she was _aroused_ – she _wanted_ this, had _wanted_ Jean! With her other partners (and if she was terribly honest with herself, probably this one as well) – the tingle in her nether regions that she felt just before coupling was generally the highest point in the whole evening. Beyond that little tingle of excitement she generally felt… very little.

Hermione stomped over to her bed and flopped down onto it gracelessly, waving her wand to magic her jeans off her body, unthinkingly adding a charm to make them fold neatly at the foot of her bed. With her other hand, she gently snuck a finger into her underwear, pressing delicately against her intimate folds. Her skin was feverishly hot. _Damnit!_ Hermione groaned with frustration. _She was wet. Damn Jean and damn his cute arse. Why was he such an idiot? He should be in bed with her, learning his way around her body._ She had promised herself that she would start navigating in bed more now, starting with "okay, here's how to make me feel good!" Jean was meant to be the beginning of a new chapter! _Damnit! Damnit, again!_

Groaning again, Hermione dipped her finger into her wetness. She was going crazy. Did people go crazy from a bad sex life? Was it possible? Her finger, coated in her moisture, moved slowly upwards until she reached her delicate bundle of nerves. Hermione hissed as she rubbed circles around her tight nub, back arching. As she circled it more insistently, her wand fell with a clatter out of her hand and onto the floor. Gripping the sheets with her now free wand hand, she whimpered, her fingers rubbing harder as she felt delicious warmth start to flow through her body. She bit her lip as her belly tightened – _oh, so close…_

A loud tinkling noise startled her and she jumped up, instinctively Summoning her wand and rushing to her living room. _Her wards!_ Gods, she must have been so distracted that she hadn't thought to reset her wards after Jean left! Hermione forced her mind to clear as she formed a spell on her lips. An attacker? Worse, Death Eaters looking for vengeance? Harry and Ron always told her that she had to still be extra careful even though the War was over. _Stupid. Stupid…!_ Hermione rushed into the living room with her wand raised, about to yell "Stupe-"

Brown eyes met black as she gasped in astonishment. "Snape!"

"Miss Granger!" He started at her sudden entrance. "Your Floo was unwarded, I was …"

 _Oh, Merlin's nostril hairs._ Hermione's heart was still beating out of her chest. She gaped at him, wand still drawn.

"… concerned." His words seemed to dry out in his mouth as they stared at each other. As the seconds ticked past, colour diffused into Snape's pale cheeks and he tore his eyes away from her. Slowly lowering her wand, Hermione suddenly became remarkably aware of how the situation appeared. She was dressed in a dishevelled blouse and lacy knickers and she had just been –

His face in profile, Hermione could see Snape's nostrils flare. _Oh gods, he could probably smell…_ Hermione flushed from her toes to the tips of her hair.

"Give me a minute!" She gasped out as she ran out of the living room to the relative safety of her bedroom. She cast a Cleansing Charm on herself and charmed her pants back on, attempting to fix her hair in the meantime. In her mind all she could think was _Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods, I just showed Severus Snape my lacy knickers…!_

When she re-emerged into the living room, Snape was still looming awkwardly beside her fireplace. It was difficult to say who looked more mortified.

"Miss Granger, please accept my most sincere apologies for invading your privacy. I did not realise you had company. I will take my leave…" He was saying this with his face turned away from her, as if worried that she was still half-undressed. His normally silky baritone sounded slightly… pinched.

"No, I didn't have company." Hermione was immensely proud of herself that she managed to say this in a voice that was not overly shaky. The throb of the almost orgasm had vanished, leaving her with a generous dose of embarrassment. "Well, I did. But then he left. I forgot to reset my wards." Snape looked up, eyebrows furrowed. He was probably going to scold her for being so careless. Hermione continued quickly to avoid his ire. "Er – what are you doing here anyway?"

"Oh." Snape blinked and visibly collected himself. "A day ago we spoke of investigating potentially suspicious activities by former Death Eaters. To this end, I tracked as many of my former acquaintances as I could without drawing unnecessary attention. Fortunately for all of us, most of the members of the Dark Lord's inner circle are dead or in Azkaban." The last part was said in a stiff tone. Hermione winced as if she could read his thoughts. _That could have been him_. "But this evening, I discovered something that could be… pertinent."

Hermione met his eyes and waited for him to continue. She felt a tingling in her spine that always signalled to her before that something important was about to be done or said. His eyes, ink black, were clouded with memory as he continued. "Do you remember Theodore Nott, Miss Granger?"

She flung her mind back to Hogwarts days... Nott. Yes, she remembered him. Slytherin. A tall boy, thin and fairly reedy, shy and seemingly intelligent – although she had not known him well. A blurry memory of him talking to Draco flashed through her thoughts. "Yes… I think I remember him from Potions. He called me a Mudblood once."

"He would have. His father was a Death Eater."

"Was?" Hermione's throat was dry.

"He was killed in the Battle at Hogwarts." Snape paused and looked closely at Hermione. "His son, Theodore, was raised in a Dark house, with Dark magic. Theodore himself was not a Death Eater, but he was most certainly a follower of the Dark Lord."

"You think he would know how the incantations to create the bomb!" Hermione said excitedly. "We should speak with him! Harry can –"

Snape stopped her by lifting a long-fingered hand. "Miss Granger, Theodore Nott is dead."

* * *

"What?" _This was confusing_. _Okay, calm down… calm… Wait._ "Why… why did you come here to tell me that?"

"He was killed yesterday evening, in Knockturn Alley. There was apparently a street brawl. There were a variety of inventive Dark curses flying about and so some of the victims were… not immediately recognisable. But one of the dead was certainly Nott the junior. It was confirmed earlier this evening."

"Right…" Hermione paced as thoughts whizzed through her mind. " _Right_. You think that his death was not an accident." The last part was not phrased as a question.

The tall wizard nodded slowly. "The timing is somewhat… coincidental. I have recently been alerted to a potential crime that requires Dark magic. I have no doubt that Nott Sr. would have known the Dark incantations necessary to create a magical bomb, and it is _probable_ that he would have passed on such knowledge to his son. And now, in a curious turn of events, Theodore Nott is dead. I thought I should inform you immediately. Although, perhaps I should have used less… intrusive means. I thought the news could not wait and you gave me your Floo access in case I discovered something important…" Snape looked back at Hermione, and to her embarrassment, he blushed again. He had been rambling towards the end.

"Oh. Don't worry about it. My job comes first." It was perhaps a testament to how sad her life was that she could make such a statement with complete truthfulness. _Damnit. Draco was right! My life is sad!_ Hermione bent over to pick up the abandoned bottle of wine and glasses, intending to offer some to her surprise visitor. As she moved to do so, she saw a length of discarded rope lying on the floor. The sight alone was almost enough to make her see red again. " _Shite!_ I cannot believe that bloody _prat_ left his stupid rope here!" Aiming her wand at the offending object, Hermione contemplated setting it on fire, before opting for a more discreet _Evanesco_. She didn't want to singe her carpets, after all.

Realising that she was probably appearing somewhat mad to the other person in her sitting room, Hermione gave an embarrassed smile and picked up the wine bottle. "Er – may I offer you some wine?" She used a quick Cleansing Charm on the glass Jean had used and held it in Snape's direction. He stared at her and the wine for a moment before giving an elegant _what-the-hell-why-not_ shrug and taking the glass.

"I assume there is a story about that rope." Snape held out his glass for Hermione to slosh a generous serving into it.

"Only that I should not invite men into my house just because they're handsome and willing to sh- uh, sleep with me." Hermione began to wonder why she felt comfortable telling her former Potions Professor details about her personal life. _Eh – he's here, and he asked._ "Just this one was into some bondage thing that I was _not_ into – I told him that I don't want to be tied up because I am really uncomfortable with not being able to access my wand, given some… select memories from the not too distant past. And do you know what he did? That dolt made some stupid comment about me being _frigid_ and obsessed with fame because I'm the girl of the Golden Trio. What a jerk! Does he not understand what consent _means_?"

"I hope you hexed him." Snape's dark eyes were narrowed. Hermione was struck by how intimidating that expression made him appear.

"Didn't have to." Hermione poured herself a glass and seated herself. "The threat was sufficient."

"Your reputation precedes you, then." Snape said, looking strangely pleased, as he took the seat opposite her.

Hermione's sitting room was small and relatively spartan. By far, the most arresting features were the shelves of ceiling-high bookcases covering each wall. Each individual tome had been magically shrunk to make room for more books, and also carefully indexed to allow for quick referencing. After first seeing her book collection, Harry and Ron had both said that she should have been a librarian instead of an MLE officer. Hermione disagreed – if anything, she disliked other people handling her books. She thought that Madam Pince at Hogwarts showed remarkable restraint in not hexing the students who roughly thumbed through (or worse, _creased_ ) her precious library books.

Besides the shelves, there were two chairs, both currently occupied, a small table covered in books, and the fireplace. Crookshanks' basket lay in the corner – her familiar was nowhere to be seen. Probably he had gone hunting or so. Hermione rarely worried about him. The half-Kneazle was more than capable of caring for himself, _and_ he could get past her wards.

"What are we going to do about Nott?" Hermione asked quietly, half to herself, cradling the glass of wine in her hands. Her earlier rage at Jean had vanished and there was now a steadily rising sense of dread pooling in her gut.

Snape did not answer. He stared at her fireplace, the dancing flames reflected in his obsidian eyes. Hermione felt the sudden compulsion to study his profile, the harsh lines of his face softened by the light of the fire. With shorter hair, Snape looked almost approachable. The very idea would have seemed absurd ten years ago, back when he had dark curtains of hair framing his face, hiding black eyes that glared at anyone who passed. His hooked nose still dominated his features, but somehow it suited him. Hermione couldn't imagine him with a smaller nose. The very idea almost made her start giggling.

"Something funny, Miss Granger?" The question, although asked in a neutral tone, brought back memories of Snape as Professor of Potions so profoundly that Hermione had to take a large gulp of wine to cover the laughter that threatened to escape.

"No. It's just been a crazy day." It had been, truly. After she and Snape had returned to the Ministry to record his interview with Narcissa Malfoy, she had had to retrieve his memory of their encounter for MLE records and make a formal report. She had then pored over records of all still-living, non-incarcerated Death Eaters and their known associates, desperately trying to determine if any of them could be their mysterious would-be bomber. After hitting a brick wall with that – at that point she hadn't come across Nott junior or senior – she had moved on to trying to figure out how one would organise such a scheme at Gringotts that would fool even the Goblins. Unfortunately, that assignment required Hermione to brush up on her Gobbledegook in order to read Goblin texts detailing the policies at Gringotts. Given that Hermine knew only about three words in Gobledegook, there wasn't very much there already for her to brush up on… _So much for being the know-it-all._

And to top things off, tonight there was _Jean._

To make matters more complicated, Hermione was still trying to decide how to organise a meeting with Harry at the Auror department to get his assistance – it wasn't as though she thought that Harry would not be helpful, he certainly _would_. It was more that she was unclear how to broach the subject to him on a case that was so… vague. So far, they had no evidence to definitively show that someone was trying to make a bomb. Their one lead, Narcissa Malfoy, had come back empty. And of course, they were missing the first thing that any investigator would ask about in a criminal inquiry – motive.

 _Why_ would someone order the ingredients required to make a magical bomb, attempt to frame somebody else – the wife of a prominent former Death Eater, and a former Death Eater herself, no less – and yet not reveal an agenda? Were they waiting for the aftermath of the attack? Hermione was no expert at terrorism, but there seemed little use planning something as elaborate as a bomb attack without suggesting who was responsible or before declaring some kind of manifesto. When Voldemort was in power, he used the Dark Mark as a symbol of terror and power. He named his followers _Death Eaters_ to frighten the Wizarding world. Where was the "Dark Mark" of this supposed terrorist? Who were their Death Eaters? Too many things were missing from this case. And yet, Hermione was _sure_ that if they did not act, something terrible was about to happen.

Strange that she now thought of Snape and herself as _they –_ a team – not two disparate individuals: MLE officer and freelance potions-maker. Perhaps she was making amends for how they treated him during the War. Back then, they had pushed him away because they were convinced that he could not be trusted. Now, she pulled him close because she was certain that he _could_.

Strange also that she couldn't help staring at him whenever she had the opportunity. Hermione chose not to examine that thought too closely.

"I thought perhaps we should determine if Nott had any close acquaintances." Snape said, his deep baritone interrupting her thoughts. "It is possible that he masterminded the whole scheme and with him dead, we no longer have anything to worry about... but I have a… _feeling_ that we are not out of trouble yet."

"Yes, I can certainly look into Nott's known associates." Hermione considered how Snape would feel if she poured herself another glass of wine. "I'm seeing Harry in a few days at the Weasley get-together. I'll find a way to discreetly get his ear."

There was a brief pause before Snape spoke again. "How is Potter?"

Hermione almost laughed again at the way Snape said Harry's name. Well, at least he no longer said it like Harry was an insect that he wanted to squash. Now it just sounded like Snape was trying very hard not to clench his teeth.

In response, she couldn't resist Summoning the latest photograph that she had of the Potters. Ginny was cradling little James in her arms as Harry looked on adoringly at the two of them. In the Wizarding photograph, James was yawning. Hermione loved that picture. She could watch James yawn over and over again… and sometimes did, on especially trying days at the Ministry. She handed it to Snape, who took it from her with unveiled interest.

"James is my godson." Hermione beamed as Snape studied the photograph. At the mention of the littlest Potter's name, Snape winced.

"Another James Potter." _Oops._ Hermione hadn't realised how this would appear to her former Potions teacher, and schoolmate of James Potter the senior. "Well, he is a beautiful child. Congratulations to the Potters. And to the child's godmother, too, of course."

"Yes, well, we're getting side-tracked." Hermione took the picture back and set it back on the shelf with a quick flick of her wand. She felt suddenly guilty that she had inadvertently reminded Snape of his horrible past. Pouring herself more wine for courage, she continued. "There are a couple of things that I think we could follow up on. First, we need to figure out how the whole debacle took place at Gringotts. Second, we need to find out more about Theodore Nott's recent history. Where he's been seen, where he lives… all of that."

"For the first point, I doubt the Goblins would be willing to share more information with me." If Snape was confused by the sudden change in topic, he didn't show it. "I've already collected two favours from them. I thought perhaps… William Weasley would be more forthcoming, particularly if _you_ were to call on him."

Huh. Bill Weasley. He might be persuaded to share some of Gringotts' inner secrets with her… And if that failed, he was sure to be a dab hand at Gobbledegook.

"That's a great idea. I'll get in touch with Bill. Perhaps I'll even see him at the Burrow." Hermione sipped her wine and used her wand to float the bottle closer to Snape. He acquiesced to a small refill. "I don't suppose you have some means of finding out what Nott has been up to recently, do you?"

"In the morning I planned to make some discreet enquiries in Knockturn Alley as to where Nott resided before his unfortunately early demise. From what I have heard about his recent activities, it is likely that he lived in the area. I will… er - send an owl to your office at the Ministry when I have the location."

Hermione winced. He was probably worried that if he showed up to visit her unannounced, he might once again find her in a compromising position. "That would be perfect." She paused, trying to think of the right words to say without sounding like an idiot. "Pr- Mr Snape. I am very sorry that I didn't… er… meet you properly earlier this evening. Rest assured I am not normally that brainless. It had just been… a difficult day."

Snape gave her a small smile and his eyes twinkled ( _have they ever done that before?)_ , thankfully not blushing this time. "You needn't apologise, Miss Granger. It was wrong of me to arrive unexpectedly at your home, where you are permitted to do whatever _you_ wish. I merely assumed that since I usually spend the evenings alone in my home, that others are also similarly inclined. It was my mistake, and I should be the one to apologise. However, _do not_ leave your wards down again. Constant vigilance, remember."

"Yes, I won't." _Sir,_ she added mentally. "Wait. You spend your evenings alone… so you're not seeing someone?" Snape shook his head, squinting at her in mild confusion. "Merlin's beard. You should have seen last month's issue of Witch's Weekly. According to them you are _quite_ the eligible wizard... I could write to them and tell them that you're still available. You would have a line of witches outside your door in no time."

Snape burst into a sudden laugh. To her surprise, it was a deep, rich sound. Hermione couldn't remember ever hearing such a sound from him. Somehow she found it _wonderful_ , and she had the childish urge to say something funny to make him laugh again.

"Miss Granger, _why_ are you reading such rubbish?"

"Well, Ginny writes about Quidditch news for a living, so she gets a free subscription to a few periodicals. Witch's Weekly is one of our favourite catch-up mags. It's so remarkably free of substance, and yet we can pore over the articles for _ages_. Mostly to laugh at, mind you, before you judge me too harshly." She smiled sheepishly at Snape, who raised an eyebrow at her. Hermione almost shuddered at the sight of _that eyebrow_ again. At least this time it was done in good humour.

"If they consider me an _eligible wizard,_ then I must seriously doubt the sanity of whoever wrote that article, Miss Granger. Clearly it was someone who has never met me, so not a graduate of Hogwarts for the past twenty or so years that I taught there – hence, it would be, in addition to aforementioned insanity, a witch or wizard with an unacceptably incomplete education."

Hermione giggled. _It must be the wine_ , she thought. How odd that she should feel so comfortable in the company of Severus Snape. She used to find him uncommonly intimidating, although he probably used that façade to prevent people from prying too deeply into his life. Now that he had little to hide, he seemed pleasingly relaxed. "Actually, they have a few gems… like this quiz that Ginny cut out and gave to me. It's meant to tell you what kind of person is your type." Hermione made air quotes around the word "type". Snape just looked confused. "Oh come on, Mr Snape. Surely you did quizzes like these back at school." With a small flick of her wand, a crumpled piece of paper flew into her hand.

"As someone who has seen my old Potions textbook, I think you might have a very good idea of what I spent my schooldays doing." Snape said wryly.

Hermione raised her eyebrows back at him but otherwise ignored his comment. "Ahem – here it is, 'How to find your soul-mate in ten questions.' Question one… What colour hair do you prefer on your potential soul-mate?"

"Miss Granger…"

" _Please_ , just humour me. It's been a long day." Hermione gave him her best pleading expression. Snape rolled his eyes and sipped his wine.

"Fine, impudent witch. Blonde."

"Really? I would have thought…"

" _Miss Granger_."

"Right, sorry. Okay, question two – What body type do you prefer on your potential soul-mate?"

"…Circe help me." Snape had pressed a hand to his face.

"Busty? Curvy? Voluptuous? Come on, Snape, chose _something_."

"Let us go with… all of the above." He didn't seem to mind that she had dropped the formality from his name.

At his answer, Hermione couldn't help but look down at her own figure. On most days, she could be described as _skinny_. Ginny preferred to say 'slender', or 'athletic', since those words sounded more complimentary. But that didn't change anything - no bustiness nor curves nor voluptuousness here. Hermione dismissed her thoughts as being ludicrous and continued reading.

"Okay. Question three…"

"Enough, Miss Granger!" Snape glared at her and Hermione put away the ridiculous quiz, giggling. It was a rather tame glare, by Snape standards. There was even a curl of amusement at the tail of it. He had certainly mellowed over the years. Hermione wondered vaguely why he was still single. Surely some witches out there wanted a tall, brooding Potions Master with a penchant for sarcasm to keep them warm at night.

"This quiz seems to assume that one's "soul-mate", as they have so cavalierly put it, depends primarily on physical appearance. If that were truly the case, then you should know that _I_ will be doomed to a life of eternal solitude."

Hermione burst into a peal of laughter that she tried to muffle with her sleeve. She was not particularly successful. "You are too harsh upon yourself, Mr Snape."

"You are too kind, Miss Granger." Snape replied, with an exaggerated bow of his head in her direction. "I suppose you have completed this absurd quiz. You were always quite proficient at quizzes in Hogwarts."

"Oh, I'm not interested in a soul-mate." Hermione paused, tilting her head. Without thinking, she blurted out. "Do _you_ believe in soul-mates, Mr Snape?"

She winced as soon as the words escaped her lips. _What a stupid question._ But Snape when didn't immediately dismiss her as she expected, Hermione held her breath and waited for his answer. He was staring down at his wine glass, swirling the scarlet liquid left inside. Somehow all the energy in the room seemed to be suddenly focussed on the wizard before her. He appeared to be lost in thought.

"Love has power." He said, finally.

"Yes… I know."

Hermione wasn't sure if they were talking about the same thing.

* * *

Hermione was surrounded by red hair. Everywhere she turned, red. It was dizzying. She had almost forgotten what it was like to be amongst the Weasley family. The moment she had walked through the door, she had been accosted by Ginny Potter and taken to the family sitting room, the wine she had brought with her swiftly whisked out of her hands. As she took a breath to orient herself with her new surroundings, Arthur Weasley had come by and kissed both her cheeks, with a brief _how lovely to see you again, Hermione, it's been too long_ … before he had been distracted by his grandson's high-pitched squalling.

Her mind still in a whirl, Hermione barely noticed Harry's hand on her elbow. She turned and smiled at her best friend, his black hair still messy as ever, green eyes sparkling behind dark-framed glasses. "How are you, love?" Harry inquired, Summoning a glass of water and passing it to her. "You've been busy at work."

She had been. Tracking down known associates of former Death Eater's (and their sons) proved more difficult than Hermione had imagined. Not unexpectedly, given the negativity surrounding the Death Eater image, Voldemort's former followers kept _very_ low profiles.

Not to mention her Gobbledegook hadn't improved.

"Yes." The word dragged out of her like a sigh. Snape still hadn't found out the location of Nott junior's residence. He had owled her the day before to say that he was making progress and hoped to have the exact address in a day or two. Hermione hoped desperately that he was doing better than she in tracking down their purported criminal. "I might need your help, actually… but not right now. I'll send you a note at the Ministry, tomorrow."

"Anything I can do to help, just ask." Harry squeezed her arm gently. "Would you like to see George?"

She nodded in the affirmative, smiling in what she hoped did not betray her nervousness. Harry led her out of the living room and into the back garden. In the dim light afforded by the floating lights dancing around them, she saw a lanky figure standing alone, watching magical garden gnomes chase each other around the hydrangeas. George's figure was slightly stooped, his hands wedged firmly into his pockets despite the mild summer weather. Hermione held her breath as she approached him for the first time in five years. He looked up as they approached, and to her great relief, the wizard smiled slowly when he noticed her coming.

"Hermione." George opened his arms and she hugged him gently. "How are you?"

"Good. Fine." Hermione blinked back tears as she looked at him properly. George's hair was long and fairly unkempt, but behind the red fringe she saw a familiar twinkle in his eyes. She noticed that his hair hid the scar left behind from his missing ear. "How… how about you?"

"I'm alright." George said, releasing her slowly. "Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes is back in business, as you may have heard. Ron helped me start the business again two years ago and… well, now I'm back in the shop."

"Good. Good." Hermione couldn't seem to stop repeating that word. She brushed the unshed tears from her eyes as she smiled at George. "I'll have to come by the shop again soon. Maybe to get something for little James."

George chuckled softly. "We'll make a right prankster out of him yet."

Hermione wasn't sure who he meant by _we_ , but she smiled back anyway. "Are you alright running the shop by yourself now that Ron's back working with the Aurors? I don't hear from him often but when he writes to me it seems that he's been spending a lot of time in America."

"Yeah, Ron drops by when he can, but it's been mainly me by myself recently. Business started off fairly slow when we… restarted, but now that it's picking up I find myself busier than ever. Might need to hire some help at some point… but for now I'm happy handling things by myself. I don't really want someone outside the family involved. We always wanted things to stay inside the family."

Again, she wasn't sure who George meant when he said _we,_ but she decided not to pursue it. Probably he meant him and Ron. "It's great to hear that you're enjoying being busy."

"Yeah, thanks – and now I've gone back into developing new sweets… remember all the fun we had at Hogwarts with those things?"

Hermione laughed. Skiving Snackboxes… how could she ever forget those? She was about to reminisce further with George when she saw him make eye contact with someone over her shoulder. Hermione turned around to see another familiar red-headed man coming towards them, grinning.

"Ronald!"

* * *

"So how're you doing, love?"

George had run off with a quick _talk to you later, mate_ mumbled to his brother and an affectionate wink to Hermione, leaving them alone in the garden to catch up. Hermione was glad to see Ron again. Glad and _relieved_ \- it had been months since their last meeting and although she knew her friend to be eminently capable, Auror work _was_ dangerous. Now that Ron was working closely with the American Aurors, he had hardly been back in England for the past year, and the long distance meant that they could only exchange letters via the not particularly convenient Floo-mail. She had missed him. Sure they weren't a couple anymore, but that didn't change the fact that they were best friends.

"Busy with work." Hermione made a face. "I wish I could say something more exciting, but I really can't. How was America?"

"Eh, not too bad. The work is interesting and keeps me totally knackered. Apart from that I'm getting used to American food." Ron looked over at her with a sly grin. "But you do have interesting news, don't you? Harry told me that you met Snape at work recently. _Snape_. Does this mean you're working together?"

"Yes, I did meet Snape and yes we are working together, but I can't really… give you much detail about what we're actually working on, sadly." Hermione leaned back against the wall and relaxed her shoulders for what felt like the first time in a week. All that time bent over parchment was giving her a muscle ache.

"So how's the old bat of the dungeons, anyway?"

"Ron!"

"I mean it in an affectionate way this time!" Ron grinned at her and Hermione grinned back because she knew it was true. Arthur Weasley had saved Snape at the Shrieking Shack because a not insignificant part of him knew that Snape was on their side, even after Dumbledore's death. And after the truth had come out about Snape's role in the war, the Weasley family had been some of his most vocal supporters. Although Severus Snape had been award Order of Merlin, First Class, for his sacrifices during the war, there were still many who thought that he was nothing more than a malicious Death Eater who had tricked the Ministry into pardoning his crimes. Ron and his family always made the effort to quash any unsavoury rumours about Snape that they heard, and weren't afraid to be confrontational about it, considering the famous Weasley temper.

"Snape's fine. He looks pretty healed up after that horrible bite from Nagini. He could probably duel the hell out of me. To be honest, he could probably duel the hell out of you and Harry."

"Both at the same time with a hand tied behind his back, most likely."

"No doubt." Hermione's mind drifted back to the evening when Snape had unexpectedly arrived at her flat. She coloured slightly as she remembered how they had gaped at each other in surprise, his dark eyes roving over her half-undressed form before turning away in embarrassment. Hermione changed the subject quickly before Ron could notice her blush. "I just had a quick chat with George. I have to say he looks really much better since the last time I saw him. But to be fair that was years ago."

"Yeah I've been pleasantly surprised myself, actually. A few years ago all he wanted to do was stay in bed the whole day. After we dragged him out of his room and started him back on his joke shop, he seemed to find some life in him again. He even manages to talk about Fred sometimes."

Hermione couldn't help but notice the small hitch in Ron's voice as he mentioned his deceased brother's name. She felt a pang in her heart as she remembered how desperately sad they had all felt when they realised that they would never hear Fred's joking laugh again, especially poor George.

"He also seems pretty busy." She said, trying to lighten the maudlin atmosphere. "He's running the whole shop by himself?"

"Seems so." Ron said, suddenly thoughtful. "I've been too preoccupied with Auror stuff to really pitch in, or to pay attention to what he's really up to, but it seems to me that he's been _very_ busy lately. Lots of research, he said. I think he's got some new products up his sleeve that he wants to spring on us as a surprise."

"Gods have mercy." Hermione said, laughing. "I'd better watch my food tonight."

They lapsed into comfortable silence. After a moment, the sound of an infant crying permeated the still atmosphere. Hermione and Ron glanced at each other and exchanged knowing smiles. "I can't believe Harry is a dad." Ron mused. "It doesn't seem that long ago that we were all kids ourselves."

"Don't I know it…. But you know what? If I could bypass the need for a mate in order to have a baby, I'd have one right now. Babies are just so adorable!" Hermione said, smiling as she thought about her godson.

The tall red-head turned to look curiously at Hermione. "Er- 'Mione… don't take this the wrong way but… Are you seeing anyone currently?"

"Uh… no. Are you?"

Ron shook his head and grimaced, tilting his head in the direction of his family home. "So, how do you want to handle this?"

"Handle what?" Hermione's eyes widened as it clicked in her head. "Oh no. Your mother…"

"…hasn't given up that we made a huge mistake breaking up." Ron finished her sentence, smiling sheepishly. "Do you want me to have a pretend girlfriend? Or do you want to have the pretend boyfriend? Just quick, tell me a name so that we can…"

A loud shout for dinner interrupted their sneaky plans and Ron and Hermione exchanged another look. Molly Weasley was a force unto herself, and if she decided that her son and Hermione Granger were destined to be together, then she would force them together whether they liked it or not. Hermione shrugged and made towards the house. Whatever she had to endure from Molly in terms of lectures about her love life this evening, as least she got to eat her excellent cooking. That was surely worth any suffering she might have to experience.

"You could just tell Mum that you're shagging the great old Dungeon Bat." Ron said, grinning mischievously. "To be honest I think he's the only bloke who Mum wouldn't dare try to break you up with to get us back together."

"Ronald!" Hermione smacked him on the arm and they both laughed.

Shagging the Dungeon Bat indeed. _How preposterous,_ Hermione thought, smiling to herself.

* * *

… **foreshadowing? ;)**

 **This chapter also wasn't meant to be so long but Snape and Hermione just kept on chatting and they wouldn't stop! Blame them, not me.**

 **And yeah, Hermione's steamy encounter wasn't what most of you expected, I'm guessing. But surely you knew that it wasn't going to be with Snape! Yet…**

 **;)**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hi folks – my apologies for the delay in uploading this chapter. Life got in the way and a horrible virus infected me for most of the week. I also wanted to do justice to this chapter because I think it symbolises quite a turning point for Hermione, so I spent a bit more time editing it.**

 **But anyway, enough chatter - hope you all enjoy this update!**

 **Once again, many thanks to everyone who left a review. It is very much appreciated.**

 **Disclaimer** : No I do not own Harry Potter.

 **Rating/warnings** : Please note the rating. This story is rated **M** for language and sexual content. There are also mentions of violence.

* * *

 **Chapter 5: Curses, chocolate, and curry-flavoured chips**

Hermione groaned and rubbed her back for what felt like the tenth time that day. No matter the number of Softening Charms she placed on her piece of shite office chair, it seemed to her that it would _never_ be comfortable. She wanted to get up and get a cup of tea, but that would mean leaving the reports that she had been reading… and she had _so many_ to get through.

At least soon she would be leaving to meet Harry to talk to him about their case. Her case. Snape's case. Whatever.

Since that evening that Snape had Floo-ed unexpectedly to her flat, resulting in probably the most complete mortification that Hermione had felt ever since Malfoy hexed her teeth when she was a teenager, she had been unable to shift the Potions Master from her thoughts. Part of her was exceptionally embarrassed that he had seen her in such a state, yet another part was strangely… pleased? The memory of his intense gaze directed at her, not with anger or scorn, but with something akin to admiration – well, it made her shift uncomfortably in her seat.

Not for the first time, she scolded herself for being so ridiculous. This was _Severus Snape_ she was thinking about – her former Professor, master spy, Witch's Weekly's eligible wizard of the month – _not_ a man to take home to have her way with for a night.

Not that she was his type anyway.

 _Shut_ up _, brain._

With a sigh that was probably too loud for the close confines of the MLE office, Hermione rose to her feet with her wand clenched in her hand. Tea. She needed tea. Perhaps she would even Transfigure it into something a little stronger. But not _too_ strong. She was meeting Harry and he would probably disapprove of her being tipsy at work.

Just as she had made up her mind to take a break, a Charmed paper aeroplane flew in her direction, unfolding neatly as it reached her desk. Hermione snatched it up as soon as she recognised the scribble at the top of the note, spelling her name. That spiky, cramped scrawl she would recognise anywhere…

 _Miss Granger – I have located the residence. Apparate to the Leaky Cauldron at your earliest convenience. I will await you outside. Your servant, SS._

Hermione almost jumped in excitement. _Finally!_ This was _it_ – the lead they were waiting for. She patted her hands through her hair to locate any errant quills (locating two) and scribbled a hasty note to Harry – _Something's come up, meet you at the Leaky when you're done with work? Love, Hermione –_ before grabbing her cloak and bag and power-walking to the Ministry's Apparition point.

On the way she passed Ernie, but was so focussed on her task that she didn't notice him or his terrified gulp as she walked by.

* * *

Hermione took a deep breath as she reached her destination. There was a strange aura about Diagon Alley that just smelt like _magic_. Probably it was only noticeable to her because she was Muggle-born. Wizards and witches who walked past here every day of their lives probably would think her ridiculous. Although it was only early evening in summer, grey clouds had gathered overhead, giving the streets a dull ambience. Craning her head to see past the crowds, Hermione caught a glimpse of a tall figure wearing a dark-hooded cloak lingering outside the Leaky Cauldron.

She weaved through the bustling crowd to the man she was meeting. When he spotted her moving towards him, Snape lowered his hood, nodding at her in greeting.

"I knew you would come immediately." His deep voice warmed her to her toes. Hermione chided herself. Honestly, she was too old for this type of behaviour.

"I knew I could count on you to find what we needed." Hermione grinned at him, before frowning slightly as she noticed passers-by slow down to stare at Snape. Growling under her breath, she almost pulled out her wand as one of the passing witches shot Snape a venomous glare.

"Miss Granger." Snape had bent over to speak lowly in her ear, and Hermione felt a jolt of awareness run through her body that would have embarrassed her had she not been so surprised. "Let it go."

"She doesn't know you at all, and yet she…" Hermione whispered back through gritted teeth.

"We do not know her either. It is likely that she lost loved ones in the War, possibly at the hands of Death Eaters. Do not let her animosity concern you." Hermione felt long fingers grip her elbow and she allowed herself to be led away from the Wizarding pub. "Stay close to me. We are about to head into… _unsavoury_ territory."

Hermione held her wand close as Snape turned to enter Knockturn Alley. The smell was the first thing that hit her – if Diagon Alley smelt of magic, it did so in a way that made Hermione think of Charmed fairy lights and Butterbeer and the sharpness of a well-brewed potion; but Knockturn Alley smelt strangely foul. She couldn't pinpoint exactly what it reminded her of, but she could almost taste the faint tang of Dark Magic on her tongue.

Hermione hadn't entered Knockturn Alley in years. In all her time with the MLE, she had never had to. She had the suspicion that Harwood (or someone more senior, like Kingsley Shacklebolt, perhaps) had given an order to prevent Muggle-born wizards and witches like Hermione from being assigned cases that would involve a foray into these parts.

Curiously there seemed to be fewer people milling around Knockturn Alley than Hermione had seen in the not-too-far-away Diagon Alley. Interestingly, none of them were staring at Snape. They seemed keen to appear uninterested in their surroundings, heads down, cloaks up, feet shuffling quickly through the streets. At the entrance to yet another of the seemingly indistinguishable alleyways, Snape turned and looked intently at Hermione. In the dim light of the day, his dark eyes seemed more inscrutable than ever.

"This is the place." He paused, as if deciding on the correct words to say. "Miss Granger, there is a high chance that there is very Dark Magic in this house. As you are Muggle-born, it is likely that it will react unfavourably towards you. I am well aware of your capabilities as a witch, but in this situation I believe I am the expert."

"Don't worry. I will follow your lead." Hermione said, hoping that she didn't sound as nervous as she felt.

Snape nodded once and slipped into the alleyway with his usual grace. Hermione followed, taking a backwards glance to ensure that nobody was following them.

Snape was bent in front of a nondescript door, muttering incantations under her breath. Although he spoke in a low tone, Hermione could make out some of what he was saying and unsurprisingly, it was no incantation that she had ever learnt. She waited for him to finish, nervously tapping her wand against her hip. Snape hadn't had to say that he was the expert at Dark Magic – she knew it well, and was comforted by his presence. If she had been with one of the other MLE officers, or even one of the younger Aurors, Hermione was sure that she would have felt much more anxious.

After all, this was Severus Snape. He had jumped into the dragon's den at the age of sixteen and lived to tell the tale, scars and all.

The door clicked open and Hermione braced herself, gripping her wand tightly. She stepped up to stand beside Snape and nodded at him in acknowledgement. Before they could enter, Snape pressed his fingers against her arm with gentle pressure and spoke in a low tone. "It might be prudent for me to walk ahead, Miss Granger. And… do not touch _anything_."

"I won't." Hermione whispered back.

" _Lumos._ " Snape muttered the incantation and held out his wand. The light revealed a small Wizarding apartment, neat and seemingly empty. It was dark – the windows were closed and shuttered, and it smelt dank, as if the place hadn't been opened in days. There appeared to be a layer of dust on all of the furniture, suggesting that no one had disturbed anything since Nott last left his home some days ago.

Cautiously, Hermione murmured a spell to detect magical signatures. The end of her wand flared gently and two small pin-pricks of light appeared for a moment before disappearing. Only two magical signatures, then – hers and Snape's – as expected. She released a relieved breath, whispering a quick _Lumos_ before following Snape into the room.

Everything appeared perfectly ordinary: Nott's flat looked like a typical apartment of a single male wizard. A few knick-knacks were lying around, discarded travelling gear hanging over the end of the sofa, and the _Prophet_ from the day before his death open to the Quidditch news on the coffee table. Snape moved towards a cabinet in the corner of the sitting room. It had a lockable door and there were a number of curious-looking antiques inside that were on display. Doubtless they were all infused with Dark Magic.

Leaving Snape to study the contents of the cabinet, Hermione walked over to the coffee table to more closely inspect the newspaper article that Nott had been reading. As she moved forward, a flash of silver under the table caught her eye. _Aha!_ Bending over, Hermione moved her lit wand-tip closer to the floor, squinting to get a better look. Pressing her fingers to the floor, she crouched to stick her head under the table.

As soon as her skin made contact with the wooden floor, an icy sensation gripped her and Hermione gasped, unable to draw in the breath to scream. Cold filled her senses, frost swimming through her blood to the tips of her toes. Distantly, she felt herself drop her wand. Stumbling to the ground, she struggled to remain conscious, trying to gasp for breath, trying to call out to Snape. Her voice failed her as the room spun and suddenly, suddenly...

 _Suddenly she was at Hogwarts again, the hallways filled with screams and cries of pain, shouts of anger, flashes of angry-coloured light. She dodged a curse as she ran, screaming for Harry, screaming for Ron, casting a hurried hex at a Death Eater rushing towards her. The masked witch or wizard stumbled and fell, almost catching Hermione's ankle as she rushed past. Her curly hair had escaped from its confines and was now tumbling wildly down her shoulders, flying over her face, plastered stickily to her forehead with sweat. She was sobbing, terror gripping her as she ran past huddled figures, some weeping for death, crying out for help, children calling out for their parents, and some… cold and stiff, eyes still open, the last rictus of terror still on their faces._

 _The scene changed…_

 _Bill and Fleur's wedding, joy and happiness destroyed suddenly as dark-robed figures cascaded towards the revellers. Screams, shouts of horror as the atmosphere changed in an instant. Hermione cried out to her friends as they clung to each other, closing her eyes as they Apparated away… leaving their loved ones behind… leaving them to possible torture and death… the Dark Mark ominous in the sky…_

 _She was crying, screaming, praying for her friends to be safe…_

 _And then she was whirling through another memory. The Forest of Dean. Cold, wet and hungry, and worst of all, always afraid. Afraid of the shadows… the possibility of being followed… the fear that they would lose each other to distrust and grief and terror. Sobbing as all hope seemed lost, as the quest they had set upon seemed too great for the likes of them… children, just children, really. Lost, terrified, angry…_

 _Holding her breath…_

 _Her hand over the mouth to muffle her whimpers of fear, hiding with Harry and Ron, their mingled breaths filled with horror as they heard the rasping, sibilant voice of the Dark Lord. They were so close… so close to the one who had killed so many. An inhuman voice filled with so much evil. And then, another voice, speaking in an acquiescent tone, a deep baritone, softened with suppressed fear… And then, then… the hiss of a snake… the same deep voice shouting in terror and pain… Hermione biting down on her fist to stop herself from screaming… A dark figure on the ground, lying in a pool of blood, so much blood…_

 _All she could feel was despair, terror, helplessness._

"Miss Granger!"

Hermione found her voice suddenly and she fell forward with a choked scream. Bile rose to her throat but she didn't have anything in her stomach to throw up. She dry heaved uselessly as she fought to catch her breath. Hermione barely noticed as gentle fingers gripped her arms and lifted her from the ground. She shook uncontrollably from head to toe. Her face felt wet with tears and she couldn't speak, almost couldn't breathe. All she could produce were small whimpers, panicked sounds as her fingers wandered desperately for the comfort of her wand.

"Miss Granger…" Some detached part of her realised where she was. Nott's apartment. Dark Magic. _Snape._ "Hermione, calm down." She felt herself pulled backwards into a warm chest, strong arms wrapped around her trembling body. She barely felt slim fingers tuck her wand into the pocket of her robes. "Hermione… You are alright. Everything is fine. It is over now. I am so sorry… the floor, I hadn't realised…"

"Snape!" She choked out, twisting around to press herself against his warmth. At first he stiffened with surprise, but then quickly relaxed as he brushed her hair out of her face with a pale long-fingered hand. Hermione buried her face in the smooth silk of his waistcoat, clutching desperately to any part of him she could reach. His torso was lean and narrow, and he was warm and there and _alive_. "You're not dead. You're not dead…"

Hermione dissolved into sobs again as, against her will, memories of that dreadful night resurfaced in her mind. Snape lying in a pool of his own blood, his hand pressed to his neck in an attempt to stay conscious, his dark eyes filled with pain as he saw them standing close to him…

"Shh." Snape soothed, wrapping his arms around her, bending his head to whisper gently into her ear. "I am here."

"You're not dead." Hermione repeated like a mantra, holding him close. _Gods_. She breathed in deeply, trying to slow her frantic sobs. _What would the world be like without him?_ With her breath she took in the scent of him – a distinct male smell overlaid with the fragrance of herbs, smoke from a simmering cauldron, the pressed silk of his clothing – and underneath all that, a comforting scent that she had never noticed before. _Had he always smelt like this?_

"No. I am not dead." Snape's normally velvety timbre hesitated over the words. "I am here."

Hermione pulled back to look at his face. She was still half-bent over the floor, Snape kneeling over her, his steady arms keeping her body upright. With him being so much taller than her, Hermione had to tilt her chin to look at him. His eyes were dark and indecipherable in the dim light of the room, but she heard his breath hitch as she lifted a hand to touch his face. His skin was unexpectedly soft. For an infinitesimal moment, their eyes locked, and then he sighed softly as his eyes fluttered shut and he leaned his cheek into her palm.

"You're not dead." She whispered again, rubbing her thumb against his skin in a caress.

Snape didn't answer, but his eyes snapped open and focussed on her with such intensity that gooseflesh erupted over her skin. Hermione held her breath as their gazes met once again. Without being aware of it, she had pulled herself even closer, and from this angle she could see straight into his eyes. Snape's eyes were so dark that she needed to be closer still, to look right into the blackness of his gaze, into the depths of his very soul. As she stared at him, Hermione thanked whatever deity had saved Snape from death and given her the chance to see the man that had finally been allowed to emerge from behind the angry, scowling façade. Once again, she wondered- _What would the world have been like without him?_

Her hand that had been on his cheek shifted to the back of his neck, pulling him closer to her. The distance between them closed until Hermione could feel his breath on her cheek. She heard him whisper her name reverently as her eyelids fluttered shut …

A loud bang made her jump nearly out of her skin and in a flash she felt herself pushed sharply backwards as Snape rose to his feet, drawing himself to his full height, wand raised. Hermione couldn't help but stare at him in awe. In some corner of her mind, she thought that he looked incredibly powerful, as though he could take on the world.

"Stay where you are!" In the dimness, she could barely make out a shadowy figure standing in the doorway, flicking his wand in a practised motion as the room suddenly filled with light.

Hermione scrambled to her feet. To her surprise, her legs were still shaking and she had to grab onto Snape's arm for support. She would recognise that voice anywhere, calm and strong. She would have known him before the light illuminated his features – the messy dark hair, slightly crooked glasses, bright green eyes…

"Harry!" To her shame, Hermione almost burst into sobs again. "Oh, Harry!"

"Snape! Hermione!" Harry stared at her for a moment, mouth agape, before rushing forward and grabbing her hands. "Oh gods, what happened to you? You're shaking!"

His hands hovered over her as he frantically checked for injuries. Harry began muttering the incantation for a diagnostic charm as Hermione squeezed his arms tightly, trying to convince herself that he was really here.

"Potter." A deep voice called both of them back to the present and they turned to look at Snape, Hermione with a look of abject relief, and Harry with an astonished expression. "Calm yourself, she will be fine."

"What happened?" Harry put his arm around Hermione and gave her a small squeeze before giving Snape his full attention.

"There is a curse that covers every surface of this house. She only needed to touch something with bare skin to be affected – I am afraid that I was not aware enough to warn her against pressing her fingers against the _floor_. There are… strong wards here that are now disabled. I believe they are particularly severe against… Muggle-borns. Forgive me, Miss Granger. I should have been more careful." Snape's inky black eyes met Hermione's once more and despite the steadiness of his voice and manner, she thought she saw a suppressed current of self-recrimination on his face.

"It's not your fault. I didn't think that _don't touch anything_ extended to the floor either. I feel… better now." Hermione smiled at Snape in a way she hoped appeared believable. She was still trembling slightly. The curse had been terrible, sucking the happiness from her like a leech, making her relive several of her worst memories in just a few moments. She took deep breaths in an effort to regain control of her senses.

"Hardly, Miss Granger, you are still shaking like a leaf. You need chocolate." At his former students' enquiring glances, Snape continued. "I believe the curse is meant to recapitulate the emotions one feels when in the presence of Dementors, perhaps at even greater severity. It is likely that the proven therapy for being in the company of a Dementor will also work in this case."

"There's a chocolate shop nearby – let me just send a Patronus to the Ministry to let them know that they need to secure this place – and then I'll get some for you, Hermione." Harry conjured his Patronus with ease and Hermione watched the silvery stag leap out the door towards its goal. "We have a… tracking system for Dark Magic at the Auror's department. It's still being worked on, as in, it's not perfect – so when it went off just before I found you, a message went out to all Aurors to see if anyone could check it out. I was the closest since I got your note to meet you at the Leaky Cauldron, Hermione… so here I am."

"The wards at the door… you disabled them, Potter?" Snape was looking at Harry with a gleam in his eye that reminded the two younger people uncomfortably of Potions class.

"Yes I did." At Snape's raised eyebrow, Harry grinned. "I did learn something that Auror training, you know, Professor."

"I am impressed. Those were very sophisticated wards." To Hermione's relief, the praise sounded genuine and not grudging as she might have expected from Snape to Harry.

She rubbed her hands against her robes. They still felt sticky with sweat. A strange thought flashed through her mind that with these fingers she had _touched Snape's face_. Where had that insane action come from? Why had she reached out and touched him? Snape had always seemed so… aloof? Distant? Indifferent? No, those words were too mild to describe him. He had always seemed to rebuff physical contact from those around him. So what had happened in that intimate moment?

What had she been expecting? Had she wanted to him to _kiss_ her? Had she wanted to kiss _him_?

Hermione was rescued from the uncomfortable direction of her thoughts as they heard the 'pop' of Apparition signal the arrival of more Wizarding folk to their location. A heavyset young man and a trim woman dressed in Auror robes entered the doorway cautiously. They noticed Harry first and tipped their heads to him in greeting, but then, looking beyond their colleague, they started when they saw who he had for company.

"Professor Snape!"

"Good evening… Mr Nicholas and Miss… Benworth?" Snape looked appraisingly at the two newly arrived Aurors. _Of course, they would have to have been his students at Hogwarts_ , Hermione thought. _Potions is a requirement for Auror training, after all_.

Harry rolled his eyes as his colleagues continued to ogle at Snape and do little else. "Nicholas, Benworth – this flat is covered in wards infused with Dark Magic. Please search the area and retrieve any suspicious items to the Ministry."

"Oh, and please send any information to Hermione Granger at the MLE." Hermione said, trying to smile at the Aurors. As much as she would have liked to hide it, she still felt incredibly drained after her experience with the Dark curse. "We have an active investigation open that involves the… ah- former owner of this place."

"Will do, Miss Granger." Auror Benworth answered. Although Hermione knew that it was relatively unnecessary to introduce herself to people at the Ministry – everyone knew who she was from her friendship with Harry Potter and her role in the Second Wizarding War – it seemed rather too arrogant to continuously make that assumption. Anyway, it was only polite to introduce herself to Harry's colleagues.

As they left the Aurors to their work – her best friend leading with his hand on her elbow, Snape walking behind them - Harry asked. "I assume the reason you're both here has something to do with what you wanted to discuss, Hermione?"

"Yes. We should talk somewhere." She nodded. The outside air felt far cooler than she remembered from not so much earlier. Perhaps it was just her shaky nerves.

"You said you wanted to go to the Leaky?"

"No." Hermione said shortly, remembering the woman who had glared at Snape earlier. She winced apologetically at Harry for her abrupt tone. "I mean, yes I did want to go there earlier. But we can't go there with… Mr Snape. People stare at him."

The man in question looked at Hermione with a guarded expression. "I can leave, Miss Granger, once we have seen to your condition."

"No, please. You don't have to go." She implored. Hermione felt touched that he hadn't wanted to leave until he was sure she was well.

"Very well." Snape said. The pleased expression on his face made Harry pause and raise his eyebrows, surreptitiously glancing between his two unlikely companions.

Neither of them noticed his slightly open mouth or thoughtful expression.

* * *

They chose to seat themselves in a Muggle restaurant that served fish and chips, sneaking a large bar of chocolate in with them. Hermione had eaten a good few pieces already, and _gods_ she felt much better. The moment the first bit of chocolate had melted on her tongue, she had felt infinitely improved. The feeling of cold and the lingering nausea had dissipated. She nibbled some more on the sweet treat and sighed with contentment. Being the daughter of two dentists, she had hardly been allowed sweets as a child, and as an adult she had continued the habit of only rarely delving into sugary treats. Even so, the very occasional chocolate indulgence never failed to hit the spot. Especially now.

Harry was seated opposite her, pinching the bridge of his nose, glasses askew. After listening to Hermione explain the details of their very puzzling investigation, his face had taken on a look of resignation that eventually culminated in his current position of attempting to squeeze more inspiration from his nose into his brain. The Aurors had worked tremendously hard over the past few years to stamp out of Voldemort's remaining followers – just because the Dark Lord was dead did not mean that those who supported him had stopped attempting to spread his vile beliefs – but no matter how hard they tried, there always seemed to be an unending tide of wizards and witches who thought Pure-bloods to be above all others. And some of them were _not_ afraid to use Unforgiveable curses to prove their point. Fortunately the 'unending tide' had slowed to 'almost a trickle', but the Aurors were far from out of business.

Hermione glanced at Snape, who was seated to her left in the small booth the three of them shared, trying to guess what he was thinking. He had spoken very little during her explanations to Harry, only saying something when she prompted him for information. Hermione felt a little bad making Snape spend time with Harry… given their _history_ , but he hadn't seemed to mind. When she looked up at Snape she saw him intently watching her eat her chocolate. She angled the remainder of the block at Snape, making a suggestive tilt of the foil-wrapped goodness whilst trying not to blush. Snape smiled with his eyes, crinkling the skin at the corners, and shook his head, going back to his meal. Hermione felt embarrassed suddenly. She had eaten almost half the block of chocolate whilst speaking to Harry, and hadn't thought to offer either of her companions a single piece.

 _Damn Snape's self-control_ , Hermione caught herself thinking.

"Alright, I think… I need to think about this." Harry finally stopped pressing his fingers to his face and looked at Hermione and Snape with bleary eyes.

"How very articulate, Mr Potter." Harry and Hermione glanced at their former Professor, expecting to see his trademark sneer. Needless to say, they were both rather surprised to see that although he was not outwardly smiling, there was a glint of good-humour on his face.

Before Harry could respond, his Wizarding timepiece made a soft chiming noise and he glanced down at it, grimacing slightly. "That's my cue to go relieve Ginny from parenting duty. Hermione – I'll get Nicholas and Benworth to forward you anything important from the flat. If there's _anything_ that even suggests that Nott's death could be linked to these mysterious potions orders, then you'll know about it as soon as I do." Rising from his seat, Harry gave his friend a small squeeze on the arm and a wink. "If you're feeling unwell tonight, Hermione, please don't hesitate to send a Patronus to Ginny or I, and _don't worry_ about disturbing us. We're parents of a three month-old infant – I think we've forgotten what sleep even _means_."

Hermione nodded gratefully and gave Harry a chocolatey kiss on the cheek goodbye just as Snape rose with a quick nod in his direction. She half-expected them to shake hands, but Harry just grinned and nodded in response. Perhaps physical contact between _these two_ was just too much to hope for. "Hermione, Professor Snape, good evening to you both." With a grin, the Boy-Who-Lived nudged his way through the crowd of diners and into the night. Hermione followed his departing figure with a fond smile on her face.

"Are you feeling improved, Miss Granger?" Snape questioned, after a brief silence.

"Yes, much, thank you." Hermione paused, trying to choose her words carefully. "You called me Hermione earlier."

Two subtle spots of colour appeared on Snape's cheeks. His fingers twitched as though he was trying not to scratch something self-consciously. Hermione tried not to dwell on how _sweet_ she thought it was. _Professor Snape is not sweet… Professor Snape is not sweet…_

Oh, fuck it all. He was.

"You were distressed. And you were not responding to 'Miss Granger'."

"That's alright. You can call me Hermione. We've known each other for… what is it… fifteen years now? Yes, that definitely gives you the right to call me by my first name."

Snape's eyes crinkled at the corners for the second time that evening. "Very well, Hermione." A pause, and then in a tone that coming from another man would be called _hesitant_ , he continued. "Severus – you can call me Severus."

Hermione would later wonder why Harry still called him "Professor" and hadn't been corrected. But at that moment, she was too busy trying to stop the smile that was threatening to split her face in two. _Gods, how old am I, fourteen?_

"Do you need to retire for evening, Miss – Hermione?" Snape said, folding his napkin neatly and placing it beside his empty fish and chips tray. "The report from the Aurors should be completed promptly, if Potter has his way, and you should rest after your unfortunate encounter this evening. Experiencing Dark Magic can be rather… draining."

Hermione didn't have to ask to know that the last sentence was said out of prior knowledge. She wrapped the (embarrassingly small) remainder of her chocolate bar back into its foil packaging and slipped in into the pocket of her Muggle jeans. "If you don't mind, I'd rather sit here a little while. It's rather nice to be amongst chattering people, yourself included."

"Very well, Hermione." She thought he looked rather pleased. _Curious._

Hermione sighed and poked at her remaining chips. They were starting to get a little soggy. "I am a little disappointed that we didn't get to search the apartment more, though… before I went and got myself cursed." She picked up a piece of deep fried potato and dipped it into her curry sauce, coating it generously. "But at least we know that Nott was more than capable at Dark Magic."

"Indeed." Snape – no, Severus – watched her drench her soggy potato goodness in the orange sauce with an almost morbid curiosity. "The wards at his front door alone would have made any Death Eater proud. The investigating Aurors had better be exercising extreme precautions in there – I suspect the wards are only the tip of the iceberg."

Hermione almost blinked in amazement at his casual use of a Muggle phrase, but then reminded herself who she was talking to. Sna- Severus seemed so at ease in the Wizarding world it still surprised her sometimes to remember that he was Half-blood. "They will be. Auror training is very extensive and they are constantly reminded to exercise 'constant vigilance'! MLE training is less so… but we deal with Dark Magic much, much less frequently."

"I confess that I was greatly surprised to find you working for the Ministry in a position less than Minister for Magic." Sn - Severus said, tearing his eyes from her now rather disturbingly orange batch of chips. Hermione couldn't help smiling at the compliment. "And also, given your reputation as a student, I would have thought you would have pursued something rather more… academic."

"Oh, I want to complete my Mastery at some point." Hermione said, enjoying the slightly repulsed look on Severus' face as she nibbled on her brightly-coloured food. "Potions or Charms, I think. I have a basic qualification for both subjects from an academy in Wales."

"But then why Magical Law Enforcement? Either Minerva or I would have written you a reference to apprentice anywhere you wanted to get your Mastery. You were always one of Minerva's favourites, after all. And yes, although I may have referred to you as 'an insufferable know-it-all' on occasion, coming from me that is about as complimentary as it got at the time."

Hermione couldn't help but laugh at her old title of 'know-it-all'. It seemed like almost an affectionate nickname now. "The short answer is – money. After I finished my NEWTs and went to the academy, money was rather tight, and I wanted to be able to support myself before continuing with my studies."

"Truly? Unless they short-changed you, I believe the Order of Merlin comes with rather a large sum - surely enough to have given you a comfortable, albeit simple, life should you have wished to complete your Mastery at the time." There was a ripple of confusion on her former Professor's otherwise impassive face.

"Oh, yes, the money from the Order of Merlin was certainly helpful. But there was so much _happening_ that I spent rather a lot of it very quickly. When I brought my parents back from Australia, I used some of the money to help them set up their practice again. And then there were repairs to the Burrow that needed to be completed. And there were just… so many orphans. I just couldn't justify keeping the money when others needed it more. I still had enough to live on during my two years at the Academy and one year training with the Ministry… but I wanted a stable job first before moving on to my intellectual pursuits." Hermione paused, considering her life at the Ministry. "The truth is - I do really like my job at the MLE. Yes, it's a bit mundane sometimes, but at times it can be rather challenging, and my colleagues are _mostly_ very lovely. Not to mention that at the time I joined the Ministry, I felt that I could have used a bit of mundanity in my life."

"That is very generous of you, Hermione." There was no sarcasm or sneering in Severus' smooth tone, only a warm quality that made her tingle to the tips of her toes. Hermione tried not to fidget at the way he said her name. _Really, this was getting rather ridiculous. When had she started behaving like this?_

"I know you don't really approve of personal questions…" Hermione began, suppressing a giggle as she remembered the last time she spent part of the evening with Severus Snape, questioning him about his love life. "But there's something I'm really curious about. Why did you go back to Hogwarts after leaving St Mungo's? You could have started your potions business then, but you decided to go back. Why? I thought you… wouldn't have been really happy there."

Severus fixed Hermione with an amused stare. "When I left St Mungo's, my weakened physical state meant that there were still many things that I could not do unaided. And at the time, I was certainly not without enemies despite the Dark Lord being vanquished. If I had stayed by myself at Spinner's End, I doubt I would have been able to defend myself against former Death Eaters or their disgruntled relations. Hogwarts provided an ideal safe haven for my recuperation, and when Minerva offered a post for me there… well, I could not refuse. Not to mention it was rather nice to have her as a friend again. I think she felt rather bad for how much she mistrusted me during that awful time after Albus' death when I was made Headmaster by the Dark Lord's bidding – she kept trying to hex me all year, not that I can blame her." He paused, dark eyes withdrawing as he gazed into the past. "And to be honest, I did not expect to live past the War. I had not thought to make any plans for… a future."

Hermione felt a pang in her heart as his words reverberated in her mind. When she, Harry and Ron were searching for Horcruxes in the lead-up to their inevitable confrontation with Voldemort, they had all felt the slightly detached terror looming over them that any day could be their last. But despite the numbing fear, there had always been a flicker of hope that they would have a future with their loved ones. Severus had spent almost twenty years with the terrible belief that he would die before seeing the end of the War. No wonder he had constantly appeared in a bad temper during his time at Hogwarts.

She reached over and patted his arm lightly. "I'm very grateful that you're still here with us." Hermione said, in an unconscious echo of her sentiments earlier that evening. Somehow, kind words didn't seem nearly enough to a man who had sacrificed half his life to destroy the Dark Lord. Hermione remembered the angry woman glaring at Severus earlier that evening and grimaced. She wished that everyone in Wizarding Britain could have glimpsed at the memories that Harry had seen, showing the extent of his loyalty towards their cause and the suffering he had faced almost daily as Dumbledore's spy.

"Well." Severus said, after a moment of silence. "I am surprised. I was rather horrid to you when you were my student."

Hermione laughed, the maudlin mood dissipating. "As you said, you calling me a 'know-it-all' was not particularly insulting, coming from you. And the way you took points from Gryffindor, although it upset us at the time, now seems so trivial. We were just children then, after all. And your 'Professor Snape' persona would have been a rather effective deterrent against anybody wanting to know too much about your personal life."

"Yes, it was rather easy to be left alone when one terrified most of the students and was despised by half of the staff."

"Well, I can't speak for the staff, but I'm sure your students were mostly petulant children, which would have annoyed anyone." Hermione said, grinning.

"Actually… I have always liked children. That was one of the reasons I returned to Hogwarts." Severus' eyes flickered towards her, his expression slightly embarrassed.

"What?" The exclamation came out louder than Hermione anticipated. Luckily for her, Severus had already placed a Notice-me-not Charm around their table, which muffled their conversation significantly. She clapped her hands over her mouth and glanced surreptitiously around but fortunately none of the other patrons seemed to have been disturbed.

Severus looked bemused. "Yes, that was one of my biggest untruths. Merlin forbid if any of the Death Eaters knew at the time. I think the only person who suspected was Lucius Malfoy – it must have been part of the reason he and Narcissa named me godfather to their only son."

" _Gods._ I confess I am rather surprised. You really seemed to dislike us at school. Although I suppose our constant delinquency made it rather easy to be disliked by a member of staff."

"Well, there was a calculated reason behind my particular asperity towards you and your favoured companions. The Dark Lord and his followers were thrilled that I had under my tutelage both the Boy-Who-Lived _and_ the son of the two Aurors they had tortured into insanity. It was why I had to be so rotten to Longbottom, and Potter – although to be fair, it was hardly difficult to aggravate Potter given that the boy so thoroughly hated me. I had to constantly regale the Dark Lord with stories of how unpleasant I made the school days of those boys. I shudder to think what the more aggressive Death Eaters would have done to them – Neville Longbottom in particular (they were rather afraid of the Potter boy) – had I not convinced the brethren that I was already being a suitably torturous Professor."

"Oh, Neville was so terrified of you! And to think the whole time that it was to protect him… Although," Hermione continued soberly, "I suppose everything you did _was_ designed to protect us."

"I was hardly successful. You lot got yourselves into far more trouble that I could have ever imagined. Not to mention the time in your fifth year when you almost got yourself sliced in half at the Ministry by that idiot Dolohov." Severus' face hardened at the mention of the former Death Eater, now dead for many years, killed by a stray curse at the final fight at Hogwarts.

Hermione winced. She still had the scar from that episode – a constant reminder how close she had come to death that day. It had been her first brush with battle, the night that poor Harry had lost his godfather. "Yes, we were so hopelessly unprepared for that. It seems rather mad now. All we knew were a bunch of defensive spells and we chose to fight ruthless Death Eaters who would not have hesitated to kill or torture us."

"You were all very lucky. Albus was incensed that Potter had almost gotten himself killed. It convinced him that the boy had to learn Occlumency. From his _favourite_ Professor, no less."

They lapsed into quiet as Hermione brooded over Albus Dumbledore and how he had led the Order of the Phoenix, Severus included. A part of her missed Dumbledore terribly – how he had always seemed so wise and powerful, and yet gentle and kind and approachable. On the other hand, he had manipulated all of them with tremendous skill. She supposed that everything he had done was in order to win the War, but she _wished_ that he could at least have been honest with them. The image of Dumbledore's broken body at the bottom of the Astronomy seared across her memory, and Hermione shuddered.

"Are you alright?" A deep voice pulled her out of her reverie. Hermione looked down and saw that Severus had covered her hands with his much larger one. Pale, fine-boned fingers rested gently on her skin, and for a mad flash of a moment, Hermione wondered what it would be like for his hands to touch her _elsewhere._ She shook her head to rid herself of the unsettling thought. _I must be more shaken that I registered earlier…_

"Just thinking… about the War. Sometimes, I wonder if I can really move on after all I've seen." Hermione was relieved that her voice emerged with its usual steady tone. Severus withdrew his hand, and it took rather more willpower than she was comfortable with not to reach out and draw him back.

"I can empathise, of course. Although… if I may, I highly recommend seeking professional help if your nightmares do not cease to haunt you."

"Professional help? Like… counselling?" Hermione's eyes were wide. Although she was somewhat familiar with Muggle psychology, she had never heard of similar principles being applied to the Wizarding population.

"Precisely. Once I could admit to myself that I could not heal properly by my own means, I visited a therapist for more than two years. The experience was… cathartic, to say the least." Severus' lips quirked upwards in a self-conscious smile.

"Wait – do you mean you saw a Muggle psychiatrist?" _How would one talk about a Wizarding war with a Muggle? Do you Obliviate them after every session?_

"Not quite. Dr Rosen is a Squib whose practice operates out of Muggle London."

"Oh, how fascinating! I suppose it gives them a rather unique view of things." _And as an added bonus… you don't need to Obliviate them after every session._

"Indeed. Minerva introduced us. For a while I was adamant that Dr Rosen could not help at all and I was loathed to speak of experiences that I wished to forget. But as you see… I was eventually worn down. It helped tremendously to talk of all the things that I could not reveal before, to someone who could listen and occasionally comment in an objective manner. Our official sessions have ceased for some time, but now we have become something resembling friends."

"That's wonderful." It really was. Hermione beamed. So that explained that change in Severus Snape. He had _counselling_. Amazing. "But… still, that doesn't explain why you stayed at Hogwarts for _five years_. You could have gone anywhere, after your name was cleared. There aren't very many Potions Masters in Britain."

"I had… friends at Hogwarts. Minerva and Poppy Pomfrey, in particular. Even Filius started speaking to me again, after he had gotten over the fact that I had to hex him in the final battle. It was also rather relaxing, to be back in teaching. Since I no longer had to attend to two masters, I found myself having rather a lot of free time to spend on research… or to just be around people who I actually liked. Minerva and Poppy can be rather entertaining, for 'two old birds', as they call themselves." Severus smirked in a way that made her smile.

"Oh yes, I discovered not too long ago that Professor McGonagall has a rather large capacity for whiskey." Hermione almost shuddered at the memory of seeing her inebriated former Professor at a gathering some months ago. It had been fun, but awkward. Mostly awkward.

"Indeed. Minerva and Poppy used to provide drinks in the staff room in the afternoon once the last students had left for the term. I have to confess that I never stayed long – once those two started calling each other 'Minnie' and 'Pop-star', I hurried to take my leave. I would have rather been hexed than find out what awful name they had come up for _me._ "

Hermione released a belly laugh. It felt good to laugh, after her ordeal earlier that day. Even though they still had a criminal to catch, even though nothing really made sense about her case… Well, now that they had the Auror department involved, especially Harry, Hermione felt as though there was actually a fighting chance of preventing something terrible from happening.

And curiously… part of her grudgingly acknowledged that her pleasant mood stemmed from enjoying present company. Hermione found herself more and more attached to the way Severus Snape's eyes crinkled at the sides, and how his lips quirked slightly when he smiled…

She squashed down those thoughts as abruptly as she could and sat up straighter, distracting herself with curry-covered chips. Severus looked at her oddly but said nothing, his eyes drawn to her food once again. _Well, too bad for him – these are delicious and I am_ not _sharing._

So delicious, in fact, that Hermione finished them in minutes. She stared at her empty plate mournfully. "Well. I think I had better go." She said, with a voice tinged with regret. "I have some reports to finish before I can finally call it a day, and I _really_ ought to feed my cat."

Nodding in understanding, her companion rose and offered her his arm. For a second, Hermione thought she saw a flash of hesitation cross his features. But then she beamed and placed her hand over his dark-clothed limb, the old-fashioned way, and he returned her smile slowly. The visible warmth in his gaze made her stomach flip pleasantly.

 _Oh gods. I think I may be in trouble._

* * *

 **\- The Potter residence, about 4.30 in the morning –**

Ginny Potter yawned and crawled into bed next to her husband. As delightful as she found her baby boy, she did so wish that he could sleep for more than three hours at a time without needing to be fed, or rocked, or cuddled, or soothed… Fortunately he was so adorable that his parents didn't mind very much having their sleep disturbed every night. Well, mostly.

"Ginny?" Harry's voice sounded awake and thoughtful. "I was just thinking…" He trailed off as his wife made herself comfortable beside him.

"Hmm?" She cuddled next to his warmth and sighed happily as Harry wrapped his arms around her.

"Do you ever remember Professor Snape being really mean to Hermione? Like, _really_ mean."

"Huh." Ginny frowned and scratched her head, pushing red locks out of the way sleepily. "Well, I don't really know about in class, since we didn't have Potions together… but I think he mostly just ignored her whenever she wanted to answer questions, which isn't _really mean_. And at Order meetings… well Snape was actually relatively pleasant for his standards around Hermione. I think he always had a bit of a soft spot for her, probably because she was the only one of us who believed he could be trusted… which is rather shameful for the rest of us, now that we know what really happen –e –e - ned." The last word was punctuated with a long yawn.

"A soft spot, huh?" Harry murmured. His wife was already floating towards slumber and did not respond. "Now, that's interesting…"

* * *

 **Harry being observant? Pinch me, I'm dreaming! ;)**

 **Once again, I tried to write a conversation between Hermione and Snape (Severus now, of course) and they just ended up chattering far longer than I anticipated! Those two…**

 **Hoping to have the next chapter up in a week or two. Until then, hope you enjoyed!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hello all! I hope I have not kept you waiting for too long for this update and I hope very much that it does not disappoint. Life has been a bit on the challenging side recently, so writing took a bit of a back wheel in the past weeks.**

 **Just a heads up that I will be traveling towards the end of this year, so the next update might also be a little while coming…**

 **Once again, thank you to everyone who left a comment. Each one means a great deal to me.**

 **Disclaimer** : No I do not own Harry Potter.

 **Rating/warnings** : Please note the rating. This story is rated **M** for language and sexual content. There are also mentions of violence.

* * *

 **Chapter 6: Madness makes the heart grow fonder**

Hermione peered at her reflection in the Muggle mirror she had nicked from her parents' house, brown eyes scrutinising her every feature. She had tied back her hair into a neat braid, utilising a neat Charm that Ginny had shown her to keep unruly tendrils from swinging into her face. Unusually for her, she had also applied a light layer of make-up - just enough to emphasise her large amber eyes and to make her mouth appear more prominent. Underneath her work robes, she was wearing a neat pencil skirt and her best white blouse. Objectively speaking, she looked… nice. Sophisticated, professional, classy… She frowned at her reflection.

 _It's alright to want to look nice some days… right? I dress up for girls' nights with Ginny, I wear make-up for dates, and I do my hair neatly when I'm giving a presentation… Today I'm going to Gringott's and I want to make the best possible impression on the Goblins. They would probably forgive my terrible Gobbledegook if they see me trying my best to impress them. Right?_

 _Right…_

Oh sod it all. She was being hopeless.

She had replayed the evening at the cursed flat over and over in her mind, wondering what on _earth_ had possessed her to behave in such a way towards her _former Professor._ What must he think of her? Her frown lifted slightly as she remembered how his breath hitched when her fingers had run across his skin. He certainly hadn't been pushing her away. And if she was being completely honest with herself, Hermione felt slightly disappointed that she hadn't been able to feel the sensation of his mouth touching hers. Alright, more than _slightly_ disappointed. At that moment she had desperately wanted to kiss him, to wrap her arms around his lean torso and dip her fingers into his glossy black hair.

 _Gods, what was_ wrong _with her?_

Deep breaths. Deep, calming breaths… Deep breaths that brought from her memory the smell of fire from a bubbling cauldron, crushed herbs, pressed silk, the delicious _tang_ that was uniquely his…

"Argh!" Hermione threw up her hands and stomped into her small kitchenette to make herself some coffee. Obviously she was just sleep-deprived and desperate for sex. That was it. Definitely it. She was going mad from a bad sex life. Nothing to worry about. She was sure there was a potion that she could take to treat that…

 _Or perhaps a Potions_ Master _she could take…_

Hermione growled under her breath and grabbed a coffee mug from her cupboard with slightly more vehemence than necessary. She flicked her wand at her Charmed coffee pot and it instantly began filling itself with strong, black coffee, whistling a happy tune as it did. Resisting the urge to grind her teeth together (someone brought up by two dentists knew the consequences of regular teeth-grinding), Hermione reached into her pantry for her supply of crumpets and jam.

She sighed. _He didn't even have nice teeth._ She really, _really_ liked nice teeth.

But… he did seem to have whiter teeth than before. And neater hair, _cleaner_ hair, and even his skin looked a far cry from the sallow, swarthy hue that he formerly displayed. It was almost as if he was… making an effort.

 _Or maybe he's just happy, Hermione - happy that he doesn't have to be tortured every other day by a murdering sociopath._

Hermione growled again at the unusual focus of her thoughts and attacked her buttered and jammed crumpet. Merlin, the combination was heaven-sent. She instantly felt her mood improve as she enjoyed her breakfast and coffee.

When there was nothing left but crumbs and a few gulps of dark liquid, Hermione leaned back in her seat and pursed her lips. Was it really so strange that she found herself attracted to Severus Snape? Perhaps if they had met under different circumstances, it _wouldn't_ feel quite so bizarre. After all, he was fiercely intelligent, articulate, had _lovely_ hands, and could be quite the gentleman when he wasn't being a sarcastic, snarky git, which - strangely - hadn't really happened recently. True, he wasn't conventionally handsome… but still, she found his looks rather compelling. Something about the long, lean figure, dark hair and eyes contrasted with pale skin, and yes, even that _nose_ … She had to admit that there was an allure there. Not to mention his voice. That voice should be made illegal – it was an Imperious Charm all by itself.

But still. He was her former teacher, almost twenty years older than her, and they were _working together_. There was no time for idle attractions. After all, she had pretty much sworn off relationships since she and Ron split up not _so_ long ago. Severus Snape just didn't seem like the kind of wizard who was looking for a quick shag every now and then.

After all, he liked children. That implied things like _settling down_ and _getting married._

With someone like the curvy, blonde witch of his dreams, most likely.

 _Shut_ up, _brain!_

She would _not_ become jealous of a purely imaginary witch.

Well, _hopefully_ imaginary.

Hermione growled at that train of thought and attempted to finish the rest of her coffee with a violent gulp, almost sending half of it down the wrong way. Chastised, she sipped the last dregs more slowly as she pondered her current view of relationships. It wasn't that she was completely opposed to the idea of the idyllic family life. She was just… well, she had been in what she (and apparently the rest of Wizarding Britain) considered a fairy-tale relationship with Ron, and look how _that_ turned out. They were best friends, two-thirds of the Golden Trio, who fell in love during a time of conflict. And yet, despite their best efforts, their relationship had fallen apart. Hermione thanked all the deities she could think of that Ron hadn't proposed during their time together – at the time she might have agreed. Now she was certain she wouldn't have been happy being Mrs Ronald Weasley. And he wouldn't have been happy with _her_ , either. It was all for the best.

Hermione sighed and sent her dishes to the sink to be washed with a casual flick of her wand. Ruminating about her love life could wait. For now, she had Severus Snape to meet and Goblins to interrogate.

* * *

"Miss Granger."

The silky voice washed over her deliciously and Hermione had to use every ounce of willpower she possessed not to shiver. "It's Hermione." She corrected, smiling as she saw the tall, dark-robed wizard stalk towards her. He was dressed in light robes for summer, with a waistcoat and neat shirt underneath. Everything black, of course. It rather suited him. Severus' gaze flickered quickly over her appearance and the expression of approval in his eyes warmed her to her toes.

 _Stop it, Hermione… You're meant to be working!_

They were outside Gringotts, Wizarding Britain's premier financial institution. As per usual on a weekday morning, it was swarming with visitors. Hermione had her Ministry identification pinned on the front of her work-robes, hoping it would make gaining entry slightly easier. As for Snape – well, she had identification from the Ministry for him too, but Hermione was rather hoping that he could show her what exactly he had meant by 'being owed favours by Goblins'.

Severus' mouth curled in a small smile as he accepted her correction to his greeting. "Hermione. Before we attend our appointment, I wanted to ask your progress in recruiting William Weasley's expertise?"

Hermione grimaced and straightened her robes as they walked together towards the main entrance, splendid in its white marble surfaces. "I Owled Bill a few days ago – I got a friendly but brief response saying that he would send me an Owl when he's free to set up an appointment to meet. Fleur's ready to burst with their second child, and apparently their hands are full trying to curb their – for now – only daughter's excitement. He's on official leave from the Ministry so I can't really force him to see me without revealing too much… but his note gives me hope that he won't keep me waiting for too long."

"I see. Well, perhaps the Goblins will be forthcoming today and we will not be required to resort to his assistance. However…" Severus glanced at her sideways as they handed over their wands to be checked at the security desk, "Given how you and your friends managed to escape from the most secure vaults in this bank on the back of a _dragon_ , no less, it may be reasonable to assume that they would be wary of you."

"Oh." Hermione smiled sheepishly, blushing slightly as she remembered their desperate escape from Gringott's all those years ago. "Well, it was necessary at the time. Do you think they still remember it? It was quite a few years ago…"

"I believe it has become something rather legendary amongst the Goblin folk, Miss – ah, Hermione." Severus' eyes glinted with something that she thought could be _affection_. Hermione blushed further and suddenly felt grateful for her light make-up. At the very least it covered up the annoying tendency of her face to colour brightly when she was embarrassed.

The Goblin at the front desk handed their wands back to them, grunting a terse "Wait here," before disappearing. Hermione clutched at hers gratefully, never forgetting the time when she and Harry had to share a wand during their search for the Horcruxes. It had been an unimaginably challenging time, and having her wand out of her hands gave her heart palpitations like nothing else.

Well, except for a tall, dark-haired, hook-nosed wizard, perhaps…

 _Shut up, brain!_

The Goblin who had checked their wands returned with another of his kin, a more elderly, slightly-hunched Goblin who wore gold-rimmed spectacles over an assessing squint. His gaze lingered over Severus for a brief moment before resting on Hermione. She met his gaze carefully, resisting the urge to blurt out her usual introduction as an officer from the MLE. Beside her, Severus too, remained silent.

After a few tense moments (Hermione felt a bead of sweat begin to form at the collar of her blouse), the elderly Goblin nodded to the security desk and the atmosphere visibly relaxed. She silently released a breath she hadn't realised she had been holding, tucking her wand surreptitiously into the pocket in the sleeve of her robes. Severus made a show of smoothing down the side of his cloak, and Hermione almost smiled with the realisation that they had both made the same subtle movements. _Like teacher, like student_ …

"Come with me." The bespectacled Goblin motioned for them to follow. Hermione exchanged a look and a raised eyebrow with her companion before moving forward wordlessly. The Goblin they were following was not one whom she recognised, but he moved through the bank as if he was Gringott himself. He led them through the long queues of Wizarding folk lining up to withdraw money from high marble counters manned by discerning Goblins. Several of the witches and wizards turned from their coin to stare at Severus Snape, but he spared them barely a glance as he walked amongst them. Hermione, on the other hand, met their stares head on, daring them to speak their thoughts. She wasn't exactly angling for a duel in the middle of Gringott's, but she certainly wasn't about to stand for anyone insulting her companion. Had the man not had a difficult enough life? Did he not deserve some measure of peace?

They were led into a small room behind the counters, richly decorated with fine furnishings styled with bold, deep colours. There was an ornately carved desk and chairs covered with rich red velvet, and the golden light of the room came from a number of candles placed around the room, held by gleaming candlesticks sculpted from silver and gold. Hermione forced herself not to gape at the opulence of the place. The Goblins _were_ known for their love of gold and riches, but this was certainly not the office of a low- or middling-level member of Gringott's. Hermione immediately felt herself tense with the realisation. She had arranged an appointment with a member of the bank's security, certainly not a overly senior member, but one who should have been able to provide them with access to the Malfoy vault and information on any tampering (Merlin forbid) that may have taken place.

The Goblin waved them to sit and placed himself behind the desk, sitting down on a tall chair so that he was almost eye to eye with a seated Severus. "Master Snape." He acknowledged the wizard with a small tilt of his head before turning to Hermione. "Miss Granger."

" _Officer_ Granger," Hermione said as pleasantly as she could manage, sitting down on the stiff-backed chair that she was offered. Breathing deeply through her nose, she fought to retain some semblance of calm whilst arranging her skirt decorously around her legs. "From the Ministry's department of Magical Law Enforcement. I believe I had an appointment with Argnot from Gringott's security to discuss certain… _sensitive_ matters?"

From the edge of her vision she watched Severus to see if he was displeased with her methods of handling the situation, which _could_ have been interpreted as impudence. To her surprise, she saw his jaw twitch as he suppressed a smirk. It put her immediately more at ease and Hermione no longer had to struggle to stop herself fiddling with the hem of her robes.

"Indeed, I am not Argnot, Officer Granger." The Goblin watched Hermione with what only slightly resembled a smile. It looked more like he was attempting to show off what sharp teeth he had. Hermione repressed the urge to narrow her eyes.

"If that is the case, then I wonder who you are… and why we are here." She questioned, in what she hoped was still a tone of pleasant interest. Beside her, Severus remained silent but watched the Goblin carefully.

"I am called Narlock. My position here is unimportant. You are here because… well, I must inform you that your appointment with Argnot has been cancelled." Narlock again showed his unpleasantly _predatory_ -looking smile.

"And may I ask why that is?" Hermione asked slowly as she exchanged a quick glance with Severus, whose impassive expression did not change.

"Argnot is… indisposed at present."

 _Well that's just convenient._ "He assured me that we would meet today."

"I am afraid that he was mistaken."

For the second time that day, Hermione stopped herself from gritting her teeth. " _Why_ is Argnot indisposed?"

Goblin teeth flashed but this time Hermione was too angry to feel even slightly frightened. "Now you are beginning to ask the right questions, Officer Granger."

"Narlock, it would be a great convenience to us if we could _please_ skip through the riddles." Severus spoke for the first time since they arrived, his voice tinged with mild exasperation. Hermione looked at him with some surprise. _How would the Goblin react to_ that _tone of voice?_

More sharp Goblin teeth were shown as Narlock's 'smile' widened. "If you insist, Master Snape." The Goblin leaned back in his fine chair, pressing the tips of his gnarled fingers together as he focused a bright stare on Hermione. "Argnot had been dismissed from this bank. That is why your meeting has been cancelled."

"Why?" Hermione thought back to when she had made the appointment two days ago. Argnot had not sounded like he had expected to be out of a job then. Whatever had happened to cause his dismissal must have happened only _yesterday_.

"He was found in breach of the codes of Gringott's bank. As you know, Argnot oversaw several vaults of the highest security. Although these vaults remain…untouched, his actions revealed that he could not be trusted."

"Argnot was in charge of Narcissa Malfoy's vault." Hermione said, leaning forward. "It was why I arranged to meet him. Master Snape and I are aware that there have been some _inconsistencies_ regarding that vault, although it is unclear how these were caused."

"Indeed." Narlock fell silent, his face drawn into a grimace. His fingers gripped the table and he appeared seconds away from rising.

Hermione was uncomfortably aware that Narlock was about to dismiss them. She started desperately trying to think about something to say to salvage the situation that had rapidly spiralled out of her control. There had to be _something_ that they could learn about what had happened at Gringott's! Surely the Goblin who had the authority to access the Malfoy vault would not have been dismissed lightly – what in Merlin's name would have revealed him to be untrustworthy?

"Can you tell us anything _else_ about Argnot?" Severus' deep voice halted the frantic steam train that was Hermione's thoughts. It took every ounce of willpower for her not to stop and gape at him. He appeared perfectly calm, with only a slight edge of impatience in his tone. _Well, I suppose this would be the strong constitution one builds after being a spy for twenty years…_

Narlock met Severus' gaze with a stare of equal intensity from behind gold-rimmed glasses.

"He spent too much time with wand-bearers," the Goblin said, finally, eyes glinting with anger.

With those cryptic words, Narlock rose and made a sharp motion with his arm. The door to his office banged open at the movement. Only many, _many_ years of practice kept Hermione from jumping at the sudden noise.

"You are dismissed." Narlock's tone brooked no argument. "Leave now before our patience runs out."

Hermione and Severus both stood. The tall wizard gave Hermione a meaningful look before reaching out to hold the door open for her to step through. But before they could leave, they heard a delicate cough from the direction of their host.

Hermione turned and saw Narlock looking at her closely. The anger had faded from his eyes and he now looked almost resigned "We found a gift from a wand-bearer in Argnot's chambers. It appeared to have been… tampered with. It made him unstable."

"What was the gift?" Hermione managed to ask.

"A bottle of Firewhiskey. We have destroyed it. Now, go." The return of the angry glint in the Goblin's eyes almost made Hermione take a step backwards. From the edge of her vision, she saw Severus' eyes narrow.

"And this time, kindly leave our dragons alone, _Officer Granger._ "

* * *

They walked away from Gringott's in silence. Hermione had no idea what Severus was thinking, but she felt uncommonly dejected. Nothing, _nothing_ about this case was going according to plan. Truth be told, she had expected the brush-off from Gringott's, but she thought that at the very least she would have been able to meet with the Goblin that she had actually arranged to see! But… Argnot's dismissal seemed awfully suspicious. Hermione knew that vaults at the highest level of security, like that of Narcissa Malfoy, required the touch of a certified Gringott's Goblin to be opened. Argnot was one of the few Goblins at the bank who could open the vault, and now he was gone, dismissed for being in possession of… tampered spirits?

"That meeting raised rather more questions than answers." Hermione murmured dejectedly as they fastened their cloaks. She could still feel her skin prickling at Narlock's display of temper. Angry Goblins made her rather nervous. Almost as nervous as angry centaurs… or angry giant spiders… or angry giant snakes, come to think of it.

"At least it raised some new questions." Severus intoned, with a mildly troubled expression. For a moment of madness, Hermione felt like reaching up with her thumb and wiping the frown off his face…

 _Whoa… get it together, lady!_ Hermione released a sharp breath to gather herself and smoothed down the light material of her robes before replying, "Like all my other dealings with Goblins, that was rather cryptic and we had to leave in rather a hurry. I suppose I shouldn't be expecting anything different." She paused and considered Narlock's words carefully, tilting her head to the side. A few curls slipped out of her Charmed styling, but she was too distracted to notice. "Narlock said that he spent too much time with wand-bearers… witches or wizards, then. So Argnot received a gift of Firewhiskey from a witch or wizard that made him so untrustworthy to his colleagues that they had to relieve him of his position? That is rather odd. I do wish we could examine the whiskey for magical tampering…"

"Goblins are rather suspicious of other magical folk who aren't their own kin, but they certainly reserve particular spite for 'wand-bearers' like us." Severus said, offering Hermione his arm. Apparently he had done so without consciously thinking about it, as when she wound her arm around his elbow, he looked at her with a brief flash of surprise that quickly turned into a fond expression that Hermione thought she could rather get used to. She felt her cheeks began to colour again and hoped to Merlin that she wasn't being too obvious.

She was rather too old for hopeless infatuations, after all.

Suddenly, Hermione gasped and flicked her arm to release the wand from the pocket of her robes in a flash. The tip of her wand had started to grow warmer, part of a Charm and she had devised together with Ron and Harry to allow for a more subtle form of communication between them than sending off a Patronus. This way, they could move somewhere more private to listen to a message, away from prying eyes and ears.

At her gasp, Severus had released her arm and armed himself with his wand more quickly than her eyes could detect. Hermione linked her arm around his elbow and hurried began pulling him through the crowd to what looked like a quiet alleyway. "Follow me," she whispered, "I think it might be Harry with a message. Or Ron. Gods, I hope they're alright."

Once they had emerged from the throng, Hermione tapped her wand on the brick wall of the alleyway, whispering a short spell. As soon as she finished her words, Harry's Patronus appeared, the glowing stag growing corporeal in seconds. It stood still and seemed to be looking intently at Hermione. Her heart racing, she waved her wand carefully in its direction, muttering a short incantation to release the Charm that they had placed to ensure that only the intended recipient would be able to hear the message.

Harry's steady voice rang through the air. "Hermione – there's been an emergency. You are needed at the Ministry immediately. Bring Professor Snape."

* * *

"A herd of forty-five cattle, two dogs, and several birds – we haven't found all of them yet – and… that's the final approximate tally."

An Auror Hermione didn't recognise left the glowing script transcribing his words floating in the middle of the meeting room. It was one of the more spacious rooms in the Auror Office, but it was now chock-full with Ministry wizards and witches. There was plenty of pressing and shoving and elbow-nudging as the room seemed to fill with more people by the minute. Hermione and Severus arrived just as the 'final tally' was being announced. Quickly scanning the words already written above, Hermione gasped as she read.

'Magical explosive… released unidentified amounts of Dreamless Sleep Potion combined with Dragon's Fire and other yet-to-be-defined Potions… farmland fifty miles from closest Muggle settlement… animals within a one-mile radius succumbed to unconsciousness… no sign of awakening despite repeated use of Reviving Charms… Priority One…'

Hermione stood on her tip-toes and scanned the myriad of faces for a messy-haired, green-eyed man. She spotted him standing to the side of the speaker. The only sign of anxiety he showed was the small crease between his brows, right underneath the lightning-bolt scar that marked him as the Boy-Who-Lived…Twice. Harry's eyes swivelled to meet hers through the crowd and acknowledged her with a quick nod. His shoulders were tense with controlled calm.

A sharp elbow in her ribs made Hermione grunt with surprise – she was so focussed on reading the report and looking out for Harry that she hadn't realised how completely full the room had become. There were Aurors, MLE officers, Muggle Liaison members… Hermione stepped quickly backwards out of the way of sharp limbs and bumped into a hard torso. She turned her head quickly to apologise but stopped when she saw Severus giving one his 'you're about to blow up my Potions classroom' scowls to the Ministry official who had bumped into her. The unfortunate wizard let out a high-pitched " _eep_!" before pushing his way through the crowd to probably find a spot as far from them as possible.

Hermione felt irrationally flattered by Severus' show of protectiveness. She must truly be going mad.

He had gripped her shoulders with gentle hands to steady her, and once Hermione had clearly revived her balance, Severus released his hold on her. His lowering hands brushed against her lower back and she tried but failed to repress a shiver.

 _Focus, Hermione… Focus._

"Muggle authorities have now arrived at the site. Our contact from the Muggle police force tells us that although no Muggles were harmed, they are taking this incident very seriously. We await to find out whether the Muggle methods of revival are more successful on the unfortunate animals that came in contact with the explosive."

Several people started speaking at once, and a magically amplified voice saying "Quiet!" silenced the room immediately. The voice belonged to Florence Williamson, head of the Auror Office, a petite red-headed witch who rumour had it was the only person to have bested Alastor Moody in a duel. She cleared her throat and continued, "This case was previously being handled by individuals in Magical Law Enforcement, but given the obvious involvement of Dark Magic and high potential for extensive damage to both Muggle and Magical populations, the Auror Department will now be taking over all aspects of this investigation. If _anybody_ obtains any information pertaining to this case, it must be delivered to us without delay. Thank you. This meeting is over."

There was again a cacophony of noise as Williamson finished speaking, but she clapped her hands and shooed everyone away with a snarling "That means _leave_ , everybody. There is a great deal of work to be done and we can't do it with all this noise!"

Hermione elbowed her way towards Harry in the opposite direction of the leaving crowd. Her best friend saw her approaching and beckoned her to the side, away from the ears and eyes of Williamson and the other Aurors. She reached behind and tugged Severus' wrist to make sure she didn't lose him in the mass of moving bodies. His skin was surprisingly warm, and Hermione felt a strange and _incredibly_ inappropriate tingle run through her at the contact.

"Hermione," Harry pulled them both to the side, whispering urgently. "It's all as you said. The Potions… the detonation… the after-effects… It's a miracle that no one was hurt - just a few farm animals that we can maybe cover up as a disease or something similar."

"We can help, Harry! Sev-" Hermione began, her words tumbling over each other in her excitement.

"Hermione Granger." Florence Williamson's steady alto voice cut into their conversation like a knife. "Potter has informed me that you were the one who opened this investigation. I am afraid that we have orders from the highest levels of the Ministry to take over the case with immediate effect. Your supervisor has given orders for you to provide us all the reports that you have compiled. We thank you for your efforts thus far, but must bid you to refer any and all further information you receive pertaining to this investigation to our Department."

Well, if that wasn't the most polite dismissal Hermione had ever heard. She saw Harry grimace from behind his boss. She sighed and turned to Severus. He was frowning slightly as his eyes skimmed over the report still written in glowing letters in the middle of the now much less crowded room.

"I would be happy to provide assistance with identifying the Potions involved in this explosive, Auror Williamson. Miss Granger can act as my liaison with the appropriate Ministry departments."

"No!" A strangled cry from a red-faced young Auror standing close by interrupted whatever answer Williamson had been about to voice. "That's Severus Snape! He's a murdering Death Eater…!"

Harry and Hermione had whipped out their wands before the indignant young man could continue. His words froze in his throat and he stared at them both, wide-eyed, before turning to the head of his Department in appeal.

"How _dare you_ …!" Hermione began hotly, sparks beginning to emit from her wand in her anger.

"Hold your tongue, Spencer, unless you wish to enter a duel that you cannot win." Williamson's curt voice rebuked. "Severus Snape is no more a Death Eater than I am."

With a clear look of surprise in his dark eyes, Severus lowered his head to the red-haired Auror in a respectful half-bow. Harry and Hermione lowered their wands, but not before gifting Spencer with simmering glares.

"Unfortunately I have strongly-worded orders that this investigation must be coordinated by Aurors alone. If you will both excuse me, we have a great deal to do. We believe that this attack on uninhabited farmland was a… test-run, of a sort. It may not be long before the next attack, and we must be vigilant. Good-day, Miss Granger… Master Snape."

With a quick nod of her head, Williamson led the other Aurors out of the room, a chastened Spencer following slowly behind them. Harry grabbed Hermione's arm as soon as his supervisor was out of ear-shot and whispered rapidly into her ear, "I'll do my best to feed you information, Hermione. It'll have to be discreet, but I know you'll want to be involved. Merlin, I'm sorry it worked out this way... They're making a big mistake keeping you both out of the case."

One of Harry's colleagues called out to him and grimaced. Squeezing her hand tightly, he muttered a quick " _bye, love_ " and hurried after the rest of the Aurors.

Hermione sighed. Today was _not_ her day.

* * *

"I've never been thrown off a case before." Hermione grumbled despondently, counting the coins she had in her purse as she pondered how much food she could buy for a measly four Galleons and fifteen sickles. Oh, and three Knuts. Honestly, she should have gotten money out at Gringott's that morning.

They had spent the afternoon copying all the reports Hermione had painstakingly written and passing them to the Auror office. They next had to be interviewed by the Aurors about their morning's appointment at Gringott's. And _then_ , all the records of Severus' Potions orders had to be copied and sent to the Department of Magical Research. By the time Hermione and Severus had left the Ministry, they were exhausted, grumpy (or grumpier, in the case of Severus Snape) and desperate for a drink.

"I would not consider it being _thrown off_ the case, Hermione. You have merely been _reassigned_ until the egos in the Auror department figure out that you are far more intelligent and determined than they are, and then they will grovel at your feet begging you for help. And from what I managed to overhear Potter whispering to you, it seems that you will not be kept completely in the dark about further developments." Severus waved the barmaid over and ordered wine for both of them, waving Hermione away when she offered him her share of the cost.

"You heard what Harry said?" Hermione said wide-eyed, wondering if her friend would get into trouble with the other Aurors. Despite the fact that he was _Harry Potter_ , the Boy-Who-Lived-to-Kill-Bad-Wizards, he was still technically meant to follow their rules…

"Potter has the subtlety of a rampaging Hippogriff, Hermione." Severus said, collecting the bottle of red wine and two glasses from the bar with a polite nod at the server. "But worry not, I believe only I was within earshot to hear the devious plans you made with the Boy Wonder."

Hermione snagged a bag of crisps on her way to their booth. Now that she was starting to come to terms with the strange fact that _she was attracted to Severus Snape_ , she felt that it might be prudent to not go completely overboard with the wine… She might end up doing something completely mad, like _kissing_ him.

Not that the idea was exactly repulsive…

Hermione almost staggered as her brain was suddenly inundated with images of her sitting on Severus' lap, pressing her lips to his. What would it be like? He had rather thin lips, but she didn't mind that. He also had a rather large nose. Would it get in the way? Well, if she slanted her mouth to the side…

She jolted herself out of her thoughts suddenly, realising that she was standing in the middle of a relatively crowded pub, motionless, carrying a bag of crisps, wool-gathering. Circe's knees, what was _wrong_ with her? This infatuation was getting completely out of control. Fortunately for her, Severus didn't seem to notice that she had started daydreaming about planting herself on his lap. He had laid down the wine and glasses on the table and had turned around, frowning slightly, when he realised that she was not close behind. Breathing a sigh of relief, Hermione hurried over and thrust the crisps out to him in explanation.

"Sorry, I'm a little hungry." She ripped open the bag, willing her fingers to stop trembling. She told herself it was the nerves, the anxiety from earlier that day. Worrying about Harry, worrying about the world, _again_. When would it ever stop?

To her annoyance, some of her curls were escaping from her carefully Charmed hair. She balanced the bag of crisps on the table with one hand, dropping her wand into the other hand and tapping the rebellious curls gently, muttering the Charm to make them zip back into her braid.

"Why did you Charm your hair?" Severus was staring at her, having poured them both a generous helping of wine.

It seemed a strangely innocuous question for such a serious man. Or at least, a man she had previously associated with extreme seriousness. He really seemed to have mellowed over the years. "The Charm makes my hair neater. It frustrates me when it dangles all over and I have to keep flipping it back. And anyway, I wanted to make a good impression at Gringott's today."

 _And to you_. The words were unspoken but in Hermione's mind they rang true, albeit grudgingly. She grimaced and attempted to hide it with another sip of wine.

"It is fine the way it is."

Severus reached out and tucked an errant curl, one that she had missed, behind her ear, his eyes never leaving hers. His fingertips grazed her cheek, and she felt the skin underneath colour brightly. Hermione had the almost unbearably strong urge to turn her head and press her lips to those beautiful fingers. She wondered, not for the first time, what his skin would taste like.

Hermione heard herself offer Severus some crisps, amazed that her mind could still focus on conversation despite the curiously singular direction of her sex-starved brain in the recent days. Her heartbeat was still recovering from the almost intimate gesture from her evening's companion. Such a gesture from Harry or Ron would be completely commonplace. They were her best friends. There was absolutely no awkwardness in physical contact between them, _even_ between her and Ron. But Severus Snape? What did he mean by that? Was he… _interested_?

They sat, drinking in silence, interspersed with the crackle of rustling foil as Hermione helped herself to salty, deep-fried goodness. Severus made a remark on the lacklustre quality of her eating habits, which quickly sparked an enthusiastic debate about whether it was justified to skip meals when work or research seemed more compelling. The conversation quickly diverted to the latest edition of _Alchemist's Quarterly_ , and Severus' thoughts on the articles that Hermione considered were of relatively dubious quality.

Thinking about Potions suddenly brought her back to the day's events. "I think you should continue making the Potions that were requested of you by our mysterious criminal. And even though I'm not technically meant to be working on the case anymore… you can always send me a Patronus if you need to reach me. I'd advise against sending me an Owl at work like you did before… the Ministry might get upset if you were to contact me instead of the Aurors."

"I agree that I should continue with the Potions order. It would be suspicious to suddenly cease my supply." Severus grimaced. "But I would rather not send a Patronus, if you do not mind. I will devise other means to contact you.

"Oh." Hermione stopped, puzzled. "Er – Oh." A lightbulb flashed in her thoughts. " _Right_. You have a rather recognisable Patronus. Right."

The Daily Prophet had been relentless in publishing every scrap of information known about Severus Snape after the Second Wizarding War. Everyone who hadn't been living under a rock for the past eight years certainly knew what form his Patronus took.

"Actually, my Patronus has… changed. I find myself rather unprepared to reveal it at present."

Hermione tried hard not to notice how his Adam's apple bobbed when he took a sip of wine. At his words, she started. "Oh. That's curious."

"Not particularly. Once I fulfilled my duties to Albus and to Potter, the power of Lily's memory diminished. I cannot say for sure when the corporeal form of my Patronus changed, but I noticed it soon after I left St Mungo's."

Hermione felt a strange sensation… almost _relief?_ Did it matter to her that Severus was no longer desperately in love with Lily Evans Potter? Did it matter to her that he had found happier memories to draw upon to fuel his Patronus?

 _Yes. Yes, it does,_ Hermione accepted grumpily.

"Are you… are you alright? With… moving on?" The words escaped her before Hermione had a chance to pull them back. She grimaced inwardly. Severus was a notoriously private man. She had no business poking into his most intimate thoughts.

To her surprise, the corner of his mouth quirked and a glint caught his eye. Hermione took a large gulp of her wine to cover the butterflies in her stomach that had suddenly arisen. Severus should be banned from having such an expression on his face. It made him look rather devastatingly attractive.

"I made the adolescent mistake of putting Lily on a pedestal." He said, catching Hermione's gaze. Again she felt her stomach flip and she forced herself to swallow as slowly as possible. "As far as adolescent mistakes go, there could be worse things." Severus did not elaborate, but the phrase ' _like_ _joining the Death Eaters_ ' hung at the end of his words. "The truth is that Lily never loved me, but as she never really _knew_ me, any love between us would have been a farce anyway."

"What do you mean?" Again her curiosity won out over common sense. Hermione could have slapped herself. Fortunately Severus didn't seem to mind.

He traced patterns on the wooden booth as he considered his reply. "I was never comfortable showing Lily who I was." He said, finally. "To me she had such a perfect life. I feared that she would have been disgusted had I shared who I really was… my unhappy childhood, the pressure to join the Death Eaters, being the target of bullies with neither compassion nor sense… I tried to be different around her. I tried to absorb her brightness and happiness. I tried to be someone that I thought she could like and respect. She was the only one who cared about me and I wanted to make myself her ideal. But really, she didn't know me, the _real_ me, at all. I never let her close enough to find out."

"I loved her desperately even knowing that she would not love me back, all because she _cared_ about me. And of course, one day I made a mistake and she turned her back on me. I was devastated… and that anger spurred me to do unspeakable things."

There was a pause as Severus ruminated on the past in silence. Feeling a surge of Gryffindor brashness, Hermione reached forward and covered his hand with hers. The dark-haired wizard looked up at her, then down at their joined hands. He did not pull away, but continued in a carefully controlled tone. "Even much later on… when the romantic attachment had faded and only the grief at her early death remained, I held on to my ill-fated love for her. I clung to it like a drowning man because it was a beacon that kept me to my course. At all costs to my soul, I had to protect her son. He had to live so that he could destroy the Dark Lord. Once that goal had been achieved, and shockingly I was still alive to witness it, I could finally let go of my feelings for Lily. Now she is… merely an honoured memory."

Severus paused and took a large swallow of wine, his fingers tensing beneath her hand. "And of course, the one man who knew me for who I really was and loved me anyway… Well, I killed him, didn't I?" This time there was a unmistakable hollowness to his voice. It made Hermione's heart clench painfully.

 _Dumbledore._ Hermione's eyes closed for a moment as she remembered the pain she felt when she realised that Dumbledore was dead. But the second emotion to replace the pain was anger… the anger she had felt when she found out all that he had tasked Snape with – impossible tasks designed to make him appear untrustworthy, to isolate him from the Order, to _force_ him to be alone. She couldn't help but say, "I always thought he asked too much of you."

"Albus? I suppose he did." Severus acquiesced with an elegant lift of his shoulders. "But had no choice. He had to… to force me to continue the fight. There were so many times that I was tempted to just give up. Every time I had to watch someone be tortured, or killed, all those times I was begged for mercy and I could do nothing… There were so many nights that I wanted to just throw myself off the Astronomy tower and be done with it. But Albus kept me going every time. He did what he had to do to defeat the Dark Lord. In the end, that is all that matters."

Severus was quiet for a long moment. "Although he may not always have been fair, I know that he cared for me, even at the time of his death. And that is a gift that I will never take lightly. He was an extraordinary man and a great wizard. There will be no other like him."

Hermione willed away tears at the honest emotion in his words. She lifted her glass and managed a small smile. "To absent friends."

"Absent friends." Severus murmured, tapping his glass against hers with a soft 'clink'. This time, when he looked at her, Hermione was sure she didn't imagine the intimate warmth in his gaze. She dragged her eyes away from his face with difficulty and sipped at her wine. With her trembling hands, she set her glass down slowly and licked the droplets of ruby red wine from her lips. Daring to peek at Severus from under her lashes, she saw him staring intently at her - at her mouth, to be precise – and his fingers – _lovely, long, beautiful fingers -_ were gripping the table so tightly that his knuckles were white.

The atmosphere was charged. Although they were seated in a busy Wizarding pub, Hermione felt as though the rest of the patrons had disappeared, leaving her alone with an attractive wizard whose eyes were focused intently on her lips. If she just leaned over the table… she could press her mouth to his and lick delicately at the corner of his frown. She could tangle her hands in his hair and taste the wine on his tongue. She could…

Hermione almost gasped aloud as she realised the direction of her thoughts. _Gods_. She was tired, she had had too much wine, and she was… alarmingly attracted to Severus Snape. Her eyes snapped back to his and she was sure that the dark desire in his eyes was mirrored in her own. But, Merlin's beard, she had to control herself. If it was any other wizard she would take him to her bed...

"I… I should go." She heard herself croak out, "It… it's late."

Severus nodded wordlessly, his eyes never leaving hers even as he picked up his cloak slung across the back of his chair. Hermione stood on shaky legs, trying to press her thighs together subtly to suppress the ache of her desire. _Gods_. _What in Merlin's name was wrong with her?_

They exited the pub and trudged in silence to the alleyway Apparition point. Hermione struggled to form a coherent thought, although she knew that she was only a _pleasantly tipsy_ rather than _blind drunk_. There would be time later for a cross-examination of her rather intense attraction to her former Potions Professor. For now, she had to _get a grip…_

There was a cool wind blowing and she shivered. Slowly, Hermione unfolded her cloak and draped it around herself, aware that she was stalling… wanting more time with her enigmatic companion but not daring to voice her desires. The enigma in question said nothing as she reached up to close the clasp on her cloak, her numbed fingers fumbling with the delicate fastening, taking far longer than usual.

With a start, she felt warm hands wrap around her shoulders and edge forward to cover her fingers. Severus was standing so close behind her that Hermione could feel the heat of his body against her shoulders. His breath on her ear making her shiver, he murmured, "Allow me."

Too surprised to move, and _much_ too turned on to care, Hermione stood still, unable to drop her hands as Severus' long fingers expertly slipped the fastening closed. When he had finished, they remained where they were, his fingers gently stroking her smaller, more delicate hands. Faintly aware that his breathing had grown heavier, she felt her eyes slide shut as Severus moved his face even closer to hers, the tip of nose touching her neck… her jaw… her cheek… The warmth of his breath made her skin tingle and she almost moaned with the pleasure of it.

Hermione turned her face to his. Their mouths were millimetres apart, their breaths mingling. The alleyway was lit by a single lamp-post, and they were otherwise alone. Not that it mattered - there could have been a herd of rampaging centaurs and Hermione probably would have ignored them. Her attention was focused on the tall, dark-eyed wizard standing behind her. The way he looked at her, obsidian eyes centred intently on her face, it was like he wanted to _consume_ her.

She hardly noticed that her legs were shaking.

She wasn't sure who moved forward first, but with a gasp Hermione found herself suddenly wrapped in lean, strong arms, her lips pressed against the mouth of a man who smelt like herbs and fire and parchment and silk. At the first gentle pressure, she moaned, or he moaned, she couldn't tell. The _feel_ of him was indescribable. Her heart thudding in her chest so hard she thought she might burst, Hermione wet her lips with the tip of her tongue without breaking the kiss, gently lapping at the seam of his mouth. He tasted of the wine they had shared, and it was _wonderful_. She was giddy with the taste of him, wanting _more, only more, just more_ … When Severus opened to her, his tongue reaching out boldly to stroke her swollen lips in slow, mesmerising swirls, Hermione felt her mind start to unravel.

It was _triumphant._ It was _bliss_. It was _magic_.

His tongue tangled with hers slowly, an erotic dance that made wetness pool between her thighs. Those long, wonderful fingers slid into her braid, wrapping around her hair. Hermione felt rather than heard a wandless _Finite_ undo the Charm that held her hair tightly together and her curls sprang free. Severus whispered his appreciation into her mouth as he weaved his hands through her unbound mass of hair.

Who knew that having someone comb their fingers through her curls could be so sensual?

Wanting him closer still, her fingers twisted in his cloak, tugging him to her so that her body was flush against his. She heard his gasp as she pressed closer against him, her breasts rubbing against his chest through the thin weight of their light summer clothing. The contact between their bodies made her skin thrum. Severus was lean, but there was a taut strength to his body that made her want to unbutton his shirt and press her hands against his skin. Her fingers moved of their own volition over the sharp planes of his shoulders, up his neck, into his hair… The dark strands were soft and silky, not at all oily or greasy as she anticipated. Clutching at each other, the height difference meant that he was bent over her, and the sheer brutality of their kisses almost made them both unbalance, until…

Until he lowered his hands slowly from her back to her thighs, leisurely skimming over her waist and bottom and hips, leaving a fiery trail in the wake of beautiful, talented hands. In a flash the kiss turned from soft and sensual to fiery and _carnal._

Hermione gripped at his shoulders as her knees buckled. She felt her breath knocked out of her lungs as she tripped backwards. Before she could cry out or even break the kiss, Severus' armed tightened around her and she felt herself pushed backwards into the hard brick wall of the alley. A wandless (and non-verbal, _thank you very much_ ) Cushioning Charm meant that instead of hard stone digging into her back, she could focus her attention on the wizard currently trying to mark a trail down her neck with his lips. She gasped as he suckled on her collarbone, releasing a soft whine as the sensation sent a sweet ache shooting through her body to rest between her thighs.

She could hardly breathe, hardly _think_. What did it matter where she was? Did it matter that she was behaving more wantonly in public than she ever imagined?

Rocking her hips against him, wanting to feel _more_ , Hermione relished the deep moan from her companion as he briefly stiffened before crushing her body to him tightly. Severus dragged his lips back to her mouth, nipping her exposed skin of her neck and jaw as he did, leaving a trail of fire in his wake. She rolled her hips against him and Severus hissed again, the hard evidence of his desire pressing against her intimately. Hermione shifted her legs to cradle him between her thighs and rocked against his hardness again, the pleasure so intense that her eyes slid shut as she cried out.

 _Gods_ , she felt so unbelievably close to orgasm and he had barely even _touched_ her.

Her sudden cry seemed to jolt something within Severus and he stepped back from her so suddenly that Hermione almost fell forward. She felt cold without the heat of his body pressed against hers and the ache between her thighs was so strong that it was almost physically painful. _What… why was he stopping?_

Severus had stepped backwards to put almost a metre between them. He was staring at her with undisguised desire, still breathing heavily. Gradually, astonishment leaked across his angular features as he continued to gaze at her, arms hanging awkwardly at his sides.

Hermione wanted to reach out to him, but thought she was rather in shock. That had to be, hands-down, the best damn kiss of her existence. She had been _minutes_ away from committing what was probably an act of gross public indecency and she had never behaved like that in her _life._

She tried to recall how to form words, but her mind was a puddle of incoherence. Before she could open her mouth to speak, Severus stepped back even further.

And then he did the strangest thing she could have imagined.

He Disapparated.

* * *

 ***runs and hides***

… **but, seriously, get it together, Severus! Am I right?**

 **(If anyone has any romantic advice for either of these hopeless two, feel free to leave a comment ;) )**


	7. Chapter 7

**Hello! Well, firstly, my sincerest apologies for not updating sooner. Life was, well, life. I had this chapter in my hard drive for over a** _ **month,**_ **but I didn't have time to edit until just recently. Please forgive!**

 **And… yes well, last chapter was slightly dramatic, wasn't it? This update is a little shorter (and less dramatic, maybe?) but sets a little bit of necessary scenery.**

 **Many, many thanks once again to everyone who left a comment on the previous chapters.**

 **Disclaimer** : No I do not own Harry Potter.

 **Rating/warnings** : Please note the rating. This story is rated **M** for language and sexual content. There are also mentions of violence.

* * *

 **Chapter 7: Elizabeth**

Hermione shot bolt upright in bed, sweat plastering her hair to her face, the echoes of her scream dying in the silence of the room. She fumbled for her wand desperately, whispering " _Lumos"_ when her fingers gripped the familiar wood. Her voice was rough and grated, as though she had been screaming for a good long while. Perhaps she had been. She hoped that the strength of her wards kept most of the noise contained… it wouldn't do for her neighbours (some of them Muggle) to think that she was being murdered in her sleep.

The small light at the end of her wand was wobbling in time with the trembling of her hands. Somehow it was comforting, to not be completely in darkness, to be armed. Gradually getting her breathing under control, Hermione muttered an incantation and the lamps in her bedroom flared to life. With an effort, she twisted her body to plant her feet on the cool floor.

Still gripping her wand tightly, Hermione pressed her eyelids shut. She ground her feet to the tiles, willing the dream away.

The hiss of snake. The cry of terror and pain.

The thump of a fallen man. Blood, blood everywhere.

Coal-black hair, pale skin, dark eyes. The raspy shadow of a familiar baritone.

 _Look at me_ …

Hermione choked back a sob and wrapped her arms around herself, rocking side-to-side to push the memory away. It was not an unfamiliar nightmare. She had had it before, many times. But this time… it had taken on a whole new dimension of terror.

She hadn't spoken to Severus in two days, not since their last meeting. Not since the searing kiss that they had shared, the melting desire that she had felt in his arms, the feeling of absolute _rightness_ to be pressed against his lean frame. After Severus had Disapparated, the first emotion she registered was absolute shock. Had this really happened? But one hand pressed to her swollen lips, the delicious throbbing of desire between her legs, the shock of curls that had erupted from her once-neat braid… proof enough that something had indeed _happened_.

The next thing she felt was righteous anger. How _dare_ he? How dare he leave her like that? He played her body like a fucking instrument and then he _left_? Was he _sadistic_?

But the next emotion that replaced the anger, which washed over her as soon as Hermione had Apparated back into her apartment, was relief. Bone-deep _relief_. She had completely lost control of her senses. Hermione Granger would never have kissed Severus Snape had she been in her right mind, not sweetly shaken with alcohol, not nervous after a stressful day, not tingling with awareness that she was in the presence of a man she found ridiculously attractive. Alright, _yes,_ she wanted to kiss him. _Yes,_ the kiss was amazing. _Yes,_ he made her want to rip off her underwear and shag him senseless.

 _But_. He was Severus Snape. Some part of her never could forget that he was her teacher - the snarling, sulky, sneering man who never had a kind thing to say to _anyone_. True, it was a necessary mask during his time as a double agent, but that nailed home the reality that she hardly knew what his real character was. Was he acting with her, too? Was his seduction of her a skilled manipulation of her obvious fancy for him?

She was Hermione Granger. And Hermione Granger _never_ lost control like that.

Hermione heard a soft purr and started out of her thoughts. Crookshanks leapt onto her rumpled duvet and rubbed his squashed face onto her thigh affectionately. With a soft cry, she picked up her familiar and hugged him tightly in her arms. The half-Kneazle kneaded her chest with his large paws and purred loudly. "Oh Crooks… you always know when I need you."

Truth be told, she rather liked the Severus Snape she was starting to get to know. He had been surprisingly open with her, talking about his past like they were _friends._ He was fiercely intelligent and had bantered with her about Potions with an expertise than none of her friends could ever aspire to. He had cared for her after her encounter with the Dark curse with an intense protectiveness that she found strangely breath-taking. He seemed to be perfectly happy for her to take the lead when they had worked together, no complaints at all – which was rather different to her experiences with many others, Harry and Ron included.

Sure, her best friends did what she asked them to do… with not before a whole lot of whining.

Yes, truth be told, she rather liked the man she had kissed two days ago. That was unusual. Normally 'liking' was not a prerequisite for the 'kissing' in Hermione's recent history.

Crookshanks purred and rubbed against her face again, his large front paws pressing against her face insistently. Hermione couldn't help but giggle fondly as her familiar made himself comfortable on her seated frame. She hugged him to her like a large, furry hot water bottle, soaking up the comfort he was offering with desperation.

 _The dream…_ Hermione squeezed her eyes shut and forced herself to take deep had not been the first time she dreamt of witnessing Severus' near-death by Nagini's bite. But before, he wasn't _Severus_ , was he? He was Professor Snape, the man whose motives everyone thought they knew, only to be proven wrong at the end. Her emotions back then were mainly filled with guilt that all of them, members of the Order who were meant to support each other, had turned their backs on Severus Snape during the time that he had probably needed them the most. But now…

Now the dream made her feel… terrified, _regretful_. If he had died that day, she would have never have known what it would be like to wrap her arm around the crook of his elbow. She would never have been privy to the generous nature he tried so hard to hide. She would never have discussed _Alchemist's Quarterly_ with him, laughing at his sarcastic (albeit accurate) commentary on the latest Potions research. She would never have been able to hold him close, breathe the smell of herbs and parchment from his silk waistcoat…

She would never have been able to kiss him, to feel the fire that his fingers left on her skin, his breath on her neck, the firm body beneath her hands, between her thighs…

The sudden thrum of arousal almost robbed Hermione of breath. She let out a breath she hadn't realised she had been holding and gently let Crookshanks down onto her bed. Whispering a simple _Tempus_ Charm, Hermione saw that it was already half past six in the morning. She was meant to meet Ginny for breakfast at nine, so there was little point in trying to go back to sleep. Hermione wiped a hand over her sweaty face and grimaced.

Perhaps she would feel better after a shower.

* * *

"Ah… isn't it lovely to be without the husband and squalling child, sometimes?"

Ginny Potter smiled at Hermione as she poured them both some strong black tea. Hermione tried to smile back but only managed a weak upturning of her lips. The shower earlier that morning hadn't really helped her to feel better after her awful nightmare and subsequent self-analysis. She really ought to see that therapist that Severus recommended… but of course anything that reminded her of him at the moment just seemed bloody awful.

"You're looking a little peaky, Hermione." Ginny's worried face hovered over hers, pressing a cup of tea and a saucer into her hands.

Hermione winced. Trust Ginny to notice that she was feeling a little _off_. "I slept badly last night."

Ginny studied her carefully. "Ah – and not in the good way, I'm guessing."

"No." Hermione tried to smirk, but failed. "Bad dreams... again."

Ginny nodded sympathetically as she stirred sugar and milk into her tea. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Hermione was silent for a long moment. It took a few sips of tea and a deep, deep breath before she could say, "I dreamt about the time in the Shrieking Shack… you know, during the Final Battle."

The red-haired witch pursed her lips. "Snape?"

Hermione nodded, trying to hide her expression behind her tea. If she crumbled just a little bit, she was afraid that she would start crying.

"It's only natural that the dream affects you like this now." Ginny said, waving her wand to pile freshly made pancakes onto a plate for Hermione.

 _Did she know? How could she know?_ Hermione stuttered."W-what do you mean?"

Ginny gave her a strange look. "Because you work together now, of course. You hadn't seen him in years and then he shows up and you spend all this time together, and you're getting to be almost friends … I think that it's perfectly natural that you start seeing everything that you witnessed of him before in a new light."

Hermione put down her tea cup and picked up her fork silently, ruminating over Ginny's words. Poking her pancakes half-heartedly, she noticed a sprig of thyme nestled in the butter that her friend had placed in the middle of the table. In a flash her mind filled with her the scent of herbs… the smell of parchment and cauldron fire… the feeling of absolute triumph at having him in her arms… and then the horrible feeling of abandonment at his hurried departure…

Her face crumpled as she gave up all hopes of maintaining a pleasant façade that morning. Hermione laid down her fork as gently as she could with her trembling fingers before burying her face in her hands and allowing hot tears to leak from her eyes.

"Oh dear." Hermione felt soft arms encircle her shoulders gently as Ginny crouched beside her. "It's alright now, Hermione. It's alright. It was just a dream."

She let herself sob quietly for a few moments, allowing Ginny's calm voice to sooth her. "Ginny... Some- something happened earlier this week." Hermione forced herself to meet her friend's eyes.

Ginny's gaze was soft. "Do you want to tell me about it?"

She swallowed. How does one put something so thrilling, so desperate, and so _heart-breaking_ as that passionate encounter into words? "I- we… we kissed."

" _What?_ "

"Oh Gin. It was magical." Hermione felt fresh tears pool at the corner of her eyes as the words rushed from her mouth in a mad tumble. "I think I'm mad for saying that, but it's true. It was amazing. I've never been kissed like that in my life."

Ginny looked at a loss. "Wait – you kissed _Snape_?"

"Well maybe Severus kissed me, it's not really clear. But Ginny… the way he looked at me… it was like I was the answer to every question in the world."

"Severus. You call him Severus."

Hermione blushed furiously. "Well, yes." _It was surprisingly easy to think of him as… Severus_.

"You kissed Severus Snape."

"Or he kissed me – I told you…"

"Holy _shit_!" Ginny stared at her for a few long moments before her mouth fell into a sly smile.

Hermione fidgeted uncomfortably under her friend's astute gaze.

"So… what did he say?" The red-haired witch prodded.

" _Say_? Ginny, there was no talking involved, believe me."

"That hot, huh?" Ginny's smile became positively predatory.

Hermione's face blushed so brightly she thought she might catch fire. "If you must know, yes it _was_ that hot. We were like fumbling teenagers!"

"Oh sweet _Merlin_ , Hermione! Bloody, fucking hell! Tell me _everything_!"

Hermione acquiesced willingly, reliving that explosive kiss in her mind was one thing, talking about it out loud was another thing entirely. By the time she had finished, Ginny was using both hands to fan herself.

"Wow! Who would have thought grumpy Professor Snape had it in him!"

"Oh, Ginny… I was _seconds_ away from begging him to take me right there! It was humiliating when he just… up and left me!"

"Wait – what?"

"He Disapparated… very suddenly."

Ginny made a face and gently tapped her ear with her wand. "Sorry, I must be going a little deaf from James' screaming fits. It sounded like you said he suddenly Disapparated."

"He did." Hermione tried not to let her face crumple again, but it was a lost cause. "He really did. One minute we were snogging like hapless adolescents and the next minute he was standing a metre away and staring at me like I was a bloody Thestral. And then he Disapparated."

And then she burst into sobs.

"Oh, Hermione… don't cry." Ginny Summoned a large handkerchief and pressed it into her distraught friend's hands. "It's Snape… he's not exactly Mr Social Graces."

"But he used to be a spy! For two decades! I thought that gave him nerves of bloody steel!" Hermione wailed, blowing her nose on the kerchief.

"Well, I figure he mostly used his nerves of steel to pander to the requests of murdering sociopaths, or to terrorize schoolchildren, not to seduce intelligent, beautiful witches."

Hermione sniffled. "That's part of the problem, really. I don't really know anything about him besides his… history, but I feel like I want to. And I _never_ want to get to know men whom I want to… you know…" She gesticulated to form a vague approximation of coupling with her hands. It looked rather like she was trying to knead air. Ginny sniggered. "Anyway, I thought you hated him… because of what he did when he was Headmaster at Hogwarts."

Ginny's expression sobered immediately. "Hermione, that was a long time ago… and now I'm just so glad to finally understand the hell that man had to go through that year. We did hate him then – me, and Neville, and many of the others – because he always seemed to be around when we got into trouble with the Carrows. And… and he would just stand there and smirk like he really enjoyed seeing us get punished." Ginny twisted her face in an uncanny imitation of the Snape smirk. "But now we know that he was there to prevent the really shitty stuff from happening to us. And looking back, when the Carrows were in a really terrible mood, Snape would take over the punishments himself! We thought he enjoyed giving us detentions… but really, those detentions in the dungeons probably saved us from being tortured to death by psychopaths."

Hermione hugged Ginny tightly, more tears leaking from her swollen eyes. _Poor Ginny. Poor Neville. Poor, poor Severus._

 _He had always worked so hard to protect them. But who protected him? No one._

Squeezing Ginny's hand, Hermione tried to articulate one of the things that bothered her immensely about her dealings with Severus. "I just… well. This is really hard to express… so, please don't judge…" She took a deep breath. "Okay. Mostly, I just sleep with men, and then we part ways in the morning and all's well, and sometimes we see each other again, most times we don't. There's an _understanding_. The problem is… I just don't think I can do that with Severus. I think he deserves better. But that doesn't make me want him _less._ "

Ginny's eyebrows knitted together. "Hermione, does it always have to be just sex?"

"What are you talking about?" Her mouth dropped open. "You mean, a relationship?"

"Some people have them, you know."

"A relationship? With _Severus_ _Snape_?"

Ginny crossed her arms. "And why _not_?"

"Because it's _Snape_!"

"I thought it was Severus now." Ginny remarked wryly. "Okay, I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that."

"No, I mean seriously." Hermione was at a loss. "You're suggesting I embark on a relationship with Severus Snape. Are you crazy? He was our _teacher_. He's twenty years older than me! He's a freaking war hero!" The pitch of her voice started rising with each word.

"Okay, firstly – he _was_ our teacher, the past tense is important. Secondly, you're a witch, he's a wizard – twenty years is _nothing_. Thirdly, you're a war hero too."

Hermione fell silent for a moment. "I haven't had a relationship in a long time, Gin."

Ginny sat down beside her friend and put an arm around her shoulders gently. "I know, love. We both know there's a reason for that, and you don't have to explain yourself to me. I'm just saying that maybe… if you want to move on from whatever is making you afraid of having someone special - I mean _really special_ \- in your life… maybe now is not a bad time to try something that is more than a one-night stand."

Hermione chuckled despite her still relatively gloomy disposition. "You're taking this all very calmly. Me and Severus Snape? I thought you would admit me to St Mungo's for confessing any of this."

"Well, it's not so _very_ mad, Hermione." Ginny magically refilled both their teacups and leaned back in her chair, appearing to consider her next words carefully. "The man we all knew as Professor Snape… well, that was a mask, wasn't it? The cruel sarcasm, the sardonic humour, the hatred of all things Gryffindor... With everything we know _now_ , I think we can all admit that he is loyal, brave and smart as hell. Coincidentally, you are also all of these things. Of course, _I_ don't know him very well beneath all the scowls and black wool, but you do. Or at least, you're starting to. And if _you_ like him… then, well, it's not so mad, is it?"

"I never said I _liked_ him." Hermione shot out automatically, wincing almost immediately with how juvenile that sounded.

Ginny had a good grace not to roll her eyes. "You didn't, but I think it's fairly obvious. If you didn't like him, we wouldn't be having this conversation. You would either have Apparated after him and shagged his brains out, _or_ you would have moved on and found yourself another bloke. And since you've done neither, I think we can safely assume that you like him."

Hermione couldn't help but giggle. "And they call _me_ The Brightest Witch of our Age."

"Some of it must have rubbed off." Ginny winked.

Both of them were quiet for a long moment. Finally, Hermione sighed. "Please don't tell Harry any of this. I know he's your husband- I just…"

"You don't have to say any more." The youngest Weasley interrupted, smiling at her friend. "It stays between us. Whatever you want to do, it's your decision and I'm here for you no matter what."

Hermione returned a watery smile and started on her pancakes. They were delicious. She began scooping dollops of cream and jam onto her pancakes with renewed vigour, to Ginny's amusement.

"Ginny…" Hermione paused thoughtfully, her mouth half-full of chewed up pancake. She swallowed quickly and continued, "Hypothetically speaking… _strictly_ hypothetically… what would _you_ do if you were me and you wanted to… reach out to Severus?"

 _And maybe get another kiss_ , Hermione's libido supplied unhelpfully.

Ginny pursed her lips, tapping her fork on the side of her plate. "Well, you know Harry and I met when we were both very young, and there was a lot… well, there was a lot of messing around before we figured out what we really wanted from each other. So I would say… if you think you know what you want from this man, don't play games. Just tell him how you feel."

"Right. Got it."

* * *

Hermione left the Potter's house feeling equal parts relieved and confused. On one hand, she felt much better having confided in Ginny about her ridiculously heated encounter with their former Professor. But at the same time, what her friend had suggested to her went against all the rules that Hermione had set about men in the past years since breaking up with Ron.

First rule – don't get attached.

Second rule – don't forget the first rule.

Hermione flopped into the armchair in her sitting room. It was Sunday and she couldn't rouse the motivation to go to work and be reminded of the case that she wasn't allowed to be working on. Instead, she listlessly Summoned a book from the shelf. Holding it half-heartedly in her hands, she leaned back into her armchair, her pleasantly full stomach making her feel slightly sleepy. Ginny had spent the rest of breakfast interrogating Hermione about all her recent dealings with Severus Snape. In fact, the rapid-fire questioning from the red-headed witch gave Hermione an insight into Ginny's journalist-mode that she slipped into for her work at the Quidditch mag.

 _I'm not even his type, anyway._

 _What a ridiculous notion. How do you even know he has a 'type'?_

 _Remember that quiz…?_

 _Wait, you showed him that quiz from Witch's Weekly? Hermione!_

 _Yeah, but I plied him with wine first. Oh, and I told him you cut it out for me…_

 _Sweet Circe. Thanks a lot, Hermione. Now I'll never be able to look at him in the face…_

 _And you think_ I _should?_

 _Why not? He had wine with you and let you quiz him about his love life! He's obviously completely batty about you!_

 _Oh Ginny, you have a wonderful imagination._

Sighing, Hermione couldn't help but stare at her fireplace. With a rush of heat to her face, she remembered the time that Severus had Flooed unexpectedly to her apartment. Although he had caught her in a compromising position, he had barged in so suddenly because he was _worried_. Worried about her… that she might be in danger. Over her past weeks of working together with the enigmatic wizard, it was obvious that – although he was not 'completely batty' – that he did _care_ about her.

But then… why hadn't he contacted her since that night? Why did he leave her so suddenly, her mind still reeling from their kiss?

Nibbling her lower lip, Hermione put the book aside before dropping her face in her hands with a groan. It was useless. She just couldn't stop thinking about him, and not just because of _that kiss_. Oh, she did want to run her fingers over his back and broad shoulders. She _did_ want to press against him and make him hiss with pleasure. She _did_ want to taste the fresh mint of his breath on her tongue. She definitely wanted all of that. But deep down, there was a yearning for _more_ – she wanted them to continue their conversations about Potions and the 'foolish wand-waving' of Charms, she _wanted_ to talk to him about her academic future, she _wanted_ to have tea with him by the fireplace…

She wanted him to look at her the way he always did at the start of every meeting – his dark eyes filled with something almost like _wonderment_. Although the rest of his face would remain impassive, through his eyes Hermione thought she could tell how pleased he was to see her.

 _Just tell him how you feel._

But how? She didn't even know how to contact him. When they last met, he said he would get in touch with _her._ But of course, that was before they snogged like randy teenagers in a public alleyway.

 _Wait_.

He had already given her access to his home via Floo! After her unfortunate experience at Nott Junior's flat, she had been preparing to shakily Apparate home when Severus stopped her.

" _Miss Granger… Hermione." In the dim lighting, Hermione had hoped that he couldn't see her blush at the obvious warmth in his tone. "Potter was right. If you are unwell this evening, you should seek help immediately. It is possible that remnants of Dark Magic can linger and cause… discomfort later on."_

" _Oh." She had said, frowning. "Well, I'm sure I'll be fine." At the look on Severus' face, she added quickly, "But yes, I will talk to Harry if I feel any, uh, lingering discomfort."_

 _Severus stared at her for a long moment. It was long enough that Hermione felt that she may as well take her leave, no matter how kind or empathetic he was being. Being the sole object of Severus Snape's attention was a rather intense experience._

" _Wait – Hermione." Appearing to make a decision, Severus dropped his wand into his hand. "Your wand, if you please."_

 _Without even pausing to think about it, she had whipped out her wand and was holding it casually in front of her. Severus scowled at her quick acquiescence. Hermione knew that he was about to berate her for listening to him so readily, so she cut in before he could began speaking._

" _I trust you, Severus."_

 _His open mouth gaped for a moment before he seemed to collect himself enough to close it. Almost stiffly, Severus touched the tip of his wand to hers and muttered an incantation under his breath that she couldn't catch. "My home is Secret-Kept, Unplottable, and heavily warded. But if you wish to seek… assistance from me at any time, you can now do so by Floo. Hold out your wand, say my name as you step into the Floo, and you will be taken directly there."_

 _The tips of both their wands flared and Hermione felt gentle warmth bathe her wand hand. Her heart was thudding loudly. Sure, she had provided Severus access to her own home, but she hadn't expected for him to do the same for her. She knew and accepted how private he was. For him to trust her like this… well, it was almost unbelievable._

" _Thank you…" Her jarred brain functions had only been able to produce those two words._

 _Hermione looked up at the dark depths of his gaze. The edges of his eyes crinkled in the way she had grown to_ really _like, and she smiled in return._

" _Anytime, Hermione."_

Hmm. Anytime? Like… now?

Well. It _was_ Saturday. Saturday was a day for socialising, right? Hermione shook her head roughly and released a long breath. She was being completely mad. Best to just read her book and forget all about this. She was off the case and there was absolutely no need to contact Severus Snape. By rights she should be angry with him for kissing her and then leaving her like that.

 _Yes, it was best to be rid of that crazy idea._ Hermione thought, opening her thick tome and snuggling deeper into her armchair.

* * *

Twenty minutes later found her standing in front of her fireplace, wand in hand, and nervously adjusting the folds of her sundress. It had taken only about thirty seconds for Hermione to discard the book (gently, of course) and run to her cupboard, casting off the comfortable but slightly too-casual jeans and oversized shirt that she had worn to meet Ginny. Fifteen minutes was all it took to wreak havoc on her usually neat bedroom as she pulled out blouse after skirt, trousers and dresses, dismissing each outfit either as 'too fussy', 'too serious', or 'too obvious' until she had settled on a yellow sundress beneath a casual set of dark robes and a pair of pale green earrings. The yellow brought out the deep amber of her eyes (previously stated by her informal fashion advisor, Lavender Brown), and the earrings were meant to be a subtle (or not-so-subtle) nod to the former Head of Slytherin house who she was trying to impress. Two minutes later, she had a light sheen of lip gloss on – no lipstick, on the off-chance that there would be the opportunity for more snogging later – and had wrangled her hair into a slightly more tamed version of the rat's nest that she had gone to Ginny's with. It took two and a half more minutes to work up the courage to stand in front of her fireplace, trying not mess up her lip gloss any further with excessive lip-biting.

Her head was still buzzing with the adrenaline rush that had followed her decision to Floo over to surprise Severus, but now that the high was dampening down, Hermione was beginning to feel anxious. _What on earth was she doing? What if he didn't want to see her? What if he was… busy?_

Hermione threw back her head and groaned loudly. She was being ridiculously rash and impulsive. Back at school, Harry and Ron had been the impulsive ones, always leaping into danger with little thought for the consequences, whilst she had been the level-headed one, the one who went to the library to research their options, the one who made _lists._ This was completely unlike her.

But to tell the truth, it was _thrilling_.

Her mouth opened before her brain had fully decided what words to form. With a tone of more confidence than she felt, Hermione tossed the green powder into her Floo and called out –

"Severus Snape!"

* * *

The whirling sensation of travelling by Floo rarely caught Hermione off-guard in the past years, but this time, she felt her stomach churn uncomfortably in the few seconds it took to travel in that curious Wizarding way. Abruptly, she felt as though a brick wall was in front of her and she almost cried out, until as quickly as she had felt its presence, it melted away. It was almost like pushing her trolley through Platform Nine and Three-Quarters again, she thought detachedly.

Hermione stumbled across the fireplace with a yelp, managing to right herself in time to avoid crashing into a low coffee table piled with books. In the seconds it took to calm down, Hermione couldn't help but gasp at the shelves and shelves of books that overwhelmed the cosy sitting room. There were _so many books._ This was heaven. Her fingers trembled with the urge to caress their worn spines, but she caught herself at the sudden sound of boots thumping on the floor.

"Hello?" She called out, her nervousness rapidly building once more. "Severus?"

"Hermione?"

She turned quickly to the doorway, her heat thudding loudly in her chest. At the sight of him, a part of Hermione wanted to sob in relief. It was that damn nightmare, reminding her of the time that they had almost lost him. Severus Snape stood at the door to his sitting room, mouth slightly agape, carrying a teacup and saucer. He was wearing his usual shirt and waistcoat with black trousers, but lacking the billowing robes. Hermione felt a strange shudder run through her at the sight of him without the armour of his dark Wizarding regalia. Now she could see properly his broad shoulders and long, lean frame. Her fingers itched to touch him.

But she didn't, because she caught Severus' face flickering from an initial expression of surprised joy to one of panic. Quickly enough, he settled into his usual impassive countenance, and if not for her work at the MLE making it necessary to hone her skills at reading faces, Hermione might have missed the escaped flashes of emotion. Suddenly she didn't know what to say.

"Hermione, are you alright?" Severus left his teacup and saucer floating in mid-air as he came over to her in long, leggy strides. Again, he sounded worried. "Did something happen? Are you hurt?"

Hermione tried to play it cool, but she knew without a doubt that a ridiculous smile was creeping over her face. _Wait, wasn't she supposed to be angry with him? Be angry, Hermione!_ "No, no, I'm fine. I just came to…"

A soft tinkling noise from behind Severus made Hermione whip her head around, wand dropping back into her hand before she had fully made the decision to arm herself. Severus turned as well, holding out an arm to stop her from flinging off a spell at whoever was coming.

Hermione's expression had frozen on her face at the sight of somebody standing at the door. It was someone she didn't recognise. A woman - somewhere in her middle years, judging from the small lines on her face, although she wore them well – also carrying a teacup and saucer. She wore a neat blouse and a pair of loose trousers, and her light blonde hair was simply styled to sit just above her shoulders. Unlike Hermione, her hair was straight and smooth, and _also_ unlike Hermione, her figure held soft curves at hip and breast.

 _Blonde. Curvy. Mature._

She didn't look particularly surprised to see Hermione. Instead, she smiled kindly, lowering her teacup and speaking in a gentle alto voice, "Well, hello. You must be Hermione. My name is Elizabeth."

"Hi." The greeting escaped before Hermione could stop it slipping out of her mouth. To her own ears, her voice sounded like it was coming from miles away. She could feel colour rising to her cheeks.

 _Oh gods and demons. What am I doing here?_

Blood was pounding in her head in a way that drowned out everything else around her. She couldn't bring herself to look at Severus.

"I am so, so sorry. I didn't realise I was interrupting. I should go. I'm sorry." Hermione knew she was babbling but she couldn't help the words from spilling out. Her voice was trembling and she absently cursed herself for sounding so weak.

She turned away from both of them abruptly, realising suddenly that she had tears in her eyes. Dropping more Floo powder into her shaking hands, Hermione stumbled over to the fireplace and watched the Floo roar green once again.

"I'm sorry, I should go." She managed to gasp out.

The last thing she heard before rushing into the Floo was Severus' voice.

"Hermione, wait!"

* * *

" _Hermione, wait!"_

Severus Snape stood in front of his fireplace, mouth still half-open.

She was gone.

He turned to face his visitor, his _other_ visitor. Unlike him, Elizabeth wore an expression of absolute calm. Lifting her teacup to take a sip, she murmured. "Well, _that_ was interesting."

Severus stared at her. She smiled, not seeming to mind that he was uncharacteristically out of words. Seeing that he was still unable to formulate a response after a few moments, Elizabeth's smile widened.

"She seems lovely, Severus."

* * *

 **Well. That's it for now! What do** _ **you**_ **think is happening?**

 **I'm sorry for having to leave it there… well, not really. Well, maybe a** _ **little**_ **bit. :D**


End file.
